Flower Girl
3:38 PM Edit This 4 Comments »
I ran into The Dead Guy's sister and his daughter this morning. I've only seen Flower Girl three times since he died. She's going into fifth grade next year and she's smart as a whip. As always. She and I always had a shy understanding of one another. Almost like she was complicit in the understanding that her daddy was sick. She knew it and it breaks my heart over and over again that she had to live through that. Kids always know. Sometimes more so than adults.
No one else in his family wanted to believe it. That he was never going to get better. They still tell people that he died from an aneurysm. I don't mince words and just say that he drank himself to death. Because that's the truth and to ignore that seems dishonest. And if you don't tell it like it is, the family secrets continue and make further generations sick, too. And damned if I want Flower Girl to turn into him - or me - or her grandmother, for that matter.
His sisters and his mother blamed me for his death for a long time, not sure if they still do. Because I let him openly drink in front of me - that came out in the police report as they sat there and looked at me slack jawed when I told the policeman how much he'd had to drink that night and that there were pain killers in his bag. I knew he was drinking anyway and it infuriated me that he even tried to hide it, so I told him if he was going to do it, then just do it already and quit with the charade. That, and I spent the last night of his life with him. Somehow they didn't seem to like that very much. I figure he got to go out being held by someone who loved him to death. And to death it was.
But because of that blame, they've kept Flower Girl from seeing me. They made it very clear that I was to have nothing more to do with her. Twice, when she visited her grandpa, he called me and we had dinner together and cuddled on the couch, talking about school and her dog and occasionally about her daddy. And it was a bittersweet joy to see her today. She's growing into a wonderful young lady and I have the feeling she's going to make it. No matter her past. Her mom and step dad love her to pieces and her grandma, grandpa and aunts spend as much time with her as they possibly can. I just miss her. That's all. I miss her.
No one else in his family wanted to believe it. That he was never going to get better. They still tell people that he died from an aneurysm. I don't mince words and just say that he drank himself to death. Because that's the truth and to ignore that seems dishonest. And if you don't tell it like it is, the family secrets continue and make further generations sick, too. And damned if I want Flower Girl to turn into him - or me - or her grandmother, for that matter.
His sisters and his mother blamed me for his death for a long time, not sure if they still do. Because I let him openly drink in front of me - that came out in the police report as they sat there and looked at me slack jawed when I told the policeman how much he'd had to drink that night and that there were pain killers in his bag. I knew he was drinking anyway and it infuriated me that he even tried to hide it, so I told him if he was going to do it, then just do it already and quit with the charade. That, and I spent the last night of his life with him. Somehow they didn't seem to like that very much. I figure he got to go out being held by someone who loved him to death. And to death it was.
But because of that blame, they've kept Flower Girl from seeing me. They made it very clear that I was to have nothing more to do with her. Twice, when she visited her grandpa, he called me and we had dinner together and cuddled on the couch, talking about school and her dog and occasionally about her daddy. And it was a bittersweet joy to see her today. She's growing into a wonderful young lady and I have the feeling she's going to make it. No matter her past. Her mom and step dad love her to pieces and her grandma, grandpa and aunts spend as much time with her as they possibly can. I just miss her. That's all. I miss her.
4 comments:
You'll see her again, don't worry...
"Kids always know. Sometimes more so than adults."
So true. It's like we have this sixth sense that we lose as we grow older, as things become more complicated and convoluted.
I hope you are still able to be a part of her life, even if it's a small one.
You're right. You're ALL right.
What matters in these situations is that the kids are cared for. And sometimes that means adults feel they are unfairly denied. But, so long as that little girl is in good hands of people who love her, I hope that gives you some sense of peace. Even if you don't get to be one of those people who watches after her. And yeah, I get that feeling of sadness. It's allowed. It means your feelings are real.
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