My grandfather died on Sunday shortly after 6 p.m. He was 96 years old. I think if you asked him he would say he lived a good life. It was definitely a long one. He wasn’t himself in recent years. Not lucid, falling all of the time, hearing loss, Alzheimer’s. Today was his funeral. I was asked (actually, told) through the grapevine not to be there.
My dad and I have had a tumultuous relationship over the many years since my parent’s divorce. It’s a relationship that I don’t share here because I don’t want my kids to read about it someday and, frankly, the stories I have are sad ones that I don’t find necessary to relive. Our last falling out happened shortly after the birth of my twins. My father has met the babies just one time, and on that trip he brought his parents. My sweet babies were their first, and only, great grandchildren.
I have been filled with so many mixed emotions about his passing, the funeral, and my relationship with my father. My dad and I will never know each other. With each passing month, year and milestone, it becomes more evident that our relationship has no measure by which it can heal. I have gone to counseling to help me resolve my feelings. But weeks like this bring them all back up to the surface as fresh as ever.
This year has been a tough one all around. There are a lot of crazy and selfish people in my life and I’m a pretty sensitive person. It’s not a good combination. Most are personal stories that I have not and will not share here, save to mention them now. But the point is that I’m feeling like all of the people that are supposed to be my rocks, my unconditionals, are the ones that have failed me the most.
To add insult to injury our house is very, very delayed. We don’t even have a finish date. And our buyers need to close next week for contractual reasons. Since they want to be in our house before the holiday, they are unwilling to rent back to us through the end of the month. So as of Tuesday we are homeless. With three babies. It is the smallest of my issues in comparison to the others that I am facing right now, but the stress is undeniable. With our closest family being roughly seven hours away, I am looking into extended stay hotels and short-term rentals. The costs are, expectedly, exorbitant and I am frustrated beyond belief.
Several friends have offered us a place to stay while we wait, and while I am forever grateful for their offers and their friendships, I cannot burden their families like that. Especially not over a holiday. We are a large, boisterous, unruly (I’m mostly talking about our kids here) family of five with a large, hairy ass dog. The very definition of insanity.
I need a long run, a stiff drink and a good cry. In a month where we are supposed to reflect on all of the things we are thankful for I can honestly say that besides my children, the only thing I am truly thankful for is that this year is almost over.
