How could you do nothing and saying you're doing your best?
So after posting something in my other journal: 14 comments about other people, it really got me to thinking about a lot of things. A.K.A. My father.
Now the last time I really saw him was right before senior year started, he brought my sister and I to get our hair done. He dropped us off with the promise of going out for some much needed school clothes within the next week. School started Wednesday of the "next week". Within the time between then and "next week" my dad's bike was stolen off his porch on richmond (Not exactly somewhere where you leave your bike out on the front porch). When I called him to ask if going for school clothes was ever going to happen, he explained the importance of him getting a new bike as soon as possible. Not just any bike though: A $300.00 bike. BTW: This wasn't his only transportation, he had a car. So school clothes never happened. Just another broken promise brought to you by *wonderful* dad.
After that incident, my grandpa (Poppy)was admitted to the hospital and I didn't find out until I called my gramma & Poppy's house to see how they were doing. My dad never told me. He did call later on after my grampa went from De Graf to Kenmore Mercy to ask if we cared to go see him. I couldn't go the day he wanted to pick us up since I had work/school. This made him angry. He didn't ask again. My Grandpa was very sick. Though doctors kept making us think he was getting better, or that he wasn't as bad as he was. Thanksgiving past, then Christmas and New Years with my grandpa in the hospital, and my grandma very alone and very scared. My dad was nowhere to be seen or heard from. The last time I saw my grandpa at Kenmore mercy, He said that my dad had come by and they had gotten in an argument about my dad borrowing their car. He said my dad had gotten in an accident with his. He also had lost his job, and then continued to loose the job his aunt got him. It really makes me angry to think of all the stress my dad caused my grandpa when he was so very sick, he was the most wonderful person I've ever known and the most selfless, and he was the last person in the world to ever deserve anything close to the shit my dad gave him.
My Grandpa was sent to Millard filmore Gates circle after the holidays, where he underwent two surgeries. He was in the ICU for a good deal of time. It was hard to get through the day during that time. He was so important to me.
My grandpa was sent to a place in williamsville along with my grandma called oakwood. They said he was healthy enough to go there. It was like a place between being in a hospital and an assited living place. I visited him once there and brought them both a dozen roses. I remember he was joking, teasing, and complaining about having to take his pills. It was nice to see him back to his self in a sense. About 3 days after we visited him there we were told my poppy had a stroke at Oakwood and sent to Millard Filmore....Gates Circle Now, if you know anything about williamsville and buffalo you know that Millard filmore gates circle is in buffalo on Delaware and that Millard filmore Suburban is on Maple. Suburban is not even two minutes from Oakwood. OAKWOOD IS RIGHT BEHIND IT!!! It really makes me wonder what would have happened if they brought him to the hospital right there instead of the 15-30 min. drive to Gates Circle. The next day my grandpa passed away.
There was no funeral really, just a thing at the cemetary and then later that night at some church in North Tonawanda. My dad didn't come to either of them.
I then found out that my dad, while my grandpa was in the hospital had started drinking again (he's an alchoholic...along with most of the men in my life), broken into my gramma & poppy's house, stolen money out of my grampa's cash box and tried to take the car.
My grandpa was a very smart man with his money, and he saved a LOT of money. My dad took a couple thousand.
I didn't hear from him until I got a letter from a rehab clinic urging me to come see my dad. He was in a rehab clinic for his alchohol and drug (ciggarettes) dependancy. (Did I mention my mom was an addictions counsler....ironic..) They said it was only right for me to go see him, and that were was a family group to which I was invited to talk about his problems.....I didn't go. I couldn't do something like that. I didn't have the strength, I was very angry, and I know alchoholics....they don't ever change (at least the ones I know don't). I didn't trust him.
I started getting cards from him, the first one telling me that he found out about poppy's death, and little cards after every few weeks up until around august. That is when I received a different letter.
This one was from some women who had apparently been helping him. She wrote that he had gotten angry, stolen her bank and credit cards along with any cash she had, and had severly beaten her, mainly her face. She wrote that she was getting a restraining order, and that she didn't mean to make me feel bad. WHAT?!? What am I supposed to feel from a letter like that? I was angry, scared for my family: after hearing he could do that, I wasn't about to trust him any more, how did I know he wouldn't try to start any shit with us?
He wrote one more card to me. And only one ever, to my sister for her birthday in October.
The Hamburg police called one afternoon and left a message about finding my dad's backpack. They called assuming he lived there apparently. My number was on his rehab papers. I called them back and they asked me where he was, if I had heard anything since apparently the cops wanted to "talk" to him. I really wasn't much help, I was as oblivious as them.
One day I was getting read to leave for work and the phone rang, it was a number/name I didn't recognize but I answered, and said "Hello?" I heard his voice on the other line respond with it's familiar tone. My heart stoped completely for a moment. I said hello again and he hung up. I was nervous then. I didn't know what he wanted or what to do. I copied the number since it wasn't his and went to work. I then checked in the phone book and sure enough the name on my caller ID matched the last address he wrote to me from.
He hasn't called back, or written anything since October. I feel sometimes like I didn't really have a father. It's a shame I don't remember anything good about him. It's a shame he has to be such a hurtful asshole. Sometimes I want to call him, and vent out everything I was always afraid to tell him: the truth. When I used to see him I could never stand up for myself with him. I will never trust him again, but it hurts so much. I'm so tired of the shit in my family. All the endless drama. It's always one thing after another.
I've been thinking about my grandpa a lot lately. He passed away in early feb. This time of year wasn't the best for me. He was amazing. He would do anything for anyone, he worked so hard in everything he did. At times when I couldn't stand anyone in my family, he was always there. I never got mad at him ever. I really miss having someone to go to, someone to help me through things like he did. He was always supportive. I miss my super poppy. ♥
Now the last time I really saw him was right before senior year started, he brought my sister and I to get our hair done. He dropped us off with the promise of going out for some much needed school clothes within the next week. School started Wednesday of the "next week". Within the time between then and "next week" my dad's bike was stolen off his porch on richmond (Not exactly somewhere where you leave your bike out on the front porch). When I called him to ask if going for school clothes was ever going to happen, he explained the importance of him getting a new bike as soon as possible. Not just any bike though: A $300.00 bike. BTW: This wasn't his only transportation, he had a car. So school clothes never happened. Just another broken promise brought to you by *wonderful* dad.
After that incident, my grandpa (Poppy)was admitted to the hospital and I didn't find out until I called my gramma & Poppy's house to see how they were doing. My dad never told me. He did call later on after my grampa went from De Graf to Kenmore Mercy to ask if we cared to go see him. I couldn't go the day he wanted to pick us up since I had work/school. This made him angry. He didn't ask again. My Grandpa was very sick. Though doctors kept making us think he was getting better, or that he wasn't as bad as he was. Thanksgiving past, then Christmas and New Years with my grandpa in the hospital, and my grandma very alone and very scared. My dad was nowhere to be seen or heard from. The last time I saw my grandpa at Kenmore mercy, He said that my dad had come by and they had gotten in an argument about my dad borrowing their car. He said my dad had gotten in an accident with his. He also had lost his job, and then continued to loose the job his aunt got him. It really makes me angry to think of all the stress my dad caused my grandpa when he was so very sick, he was the most wonderful person I've ever known and the most selfless, and he was the last person in the world to ever deserve anything close to the shit my dad gave him.
My Grandpa was sent to Millard filmore Gates circle after the holidays, where he underwent two surgeries. He was in the ICU for a good deal of time. It was hard to get through the day during that time. He was so important to me.
My grandpa was sent to a place in williamsville along with my grandma called oakwood. They said he was healthy enough to go there. It was like a place between being in a hospital and an assited living place. I visited him once there and brought them both a dozen roses. I remember he was joking, teasing, and complaining about having to take his pills. It was nice to see him back to his self in a sense. About 3 days after we visited him there we were told my poppy had a stroke at Oakwood and sent to Millard Filmore....Gates Circle Now, if you know anything about williamsville and buffalo you know that Millard filmore gates circle is in buffalo on Delaware and that Millard filmore Suburban is on Maple. Suburban is not even two minutes from Oakwood. OAKWOOD IS RIGHT BEHIND IT!!! It really makes me wonder what would have happened if they brought him to the hospital right there instead of the 15-30 min. drive to Gates Circle. The next day my grandpa passed away.
There was no funeral really, just a thing at the cemetary and then later that night at some church in North Tonawanda. My dad didn't come to either of them.
I then found out that my dad, while my grandpa was in the hospital had started drinking again (he's an alchoholic...along with most of the men in my life), broken into my gramma & poppy's house, stolen money out of my grampa's cash box and tried to take the car.
My grandpa was a very smart man with his money, and he saved a LOT of money. My dad took a couple thousand.
I didn't hear from him until I got a letter from a rehab clinic urging me to come see my dad. He was in a rehab clinic for his alchohol and drug (ciggarettes) dependancy. (Did I mention my mom was an addictions counsler....ironic..) They said it was only right for me to go see him, and that were was a family group to which I was invited to talk about his problems.....I didn't go. I couldn't do something like that. I didn't have the strength, I was very angry, and I know alchoholics....they don't ever change (at least the ones I know don't). I didn't trust him.
I started getting cards from him, the first one telling me that he found out about poppy's death, and little cards after every few weeks up until around august. That is when I received a different letter.
This one was from some women who had apparently been helping him. She wrote that he had gotten angry, stolen her bank and credit cards along with any cash she had, and had severly beaten her, mainly her face. She wrote that she was getting a restraining order, and that she didn't mean to make me feel bad. WHAT?!? What am I supposed to feel from a letter like that? I was angry, scared for my family: after hearing he could do that, I wasn't about to trust him any more, how did I know he wouldn't try to start any shit with us?
He wrote one more card to me. And only one ever, to my sister for her birthday in October.
The Hamburg police called one afternoon and left a message about finding my dad's backpack. They called assuming he lived there apparently. My number was on his rehab papers. I called them back and they asked me where he was, if I had heard anything since apparently the cops wanted to "talk" to him. I really wasn't much help, I was as oblivious as them.
One day I was getting read to leave for work and the phone rang, it was a number/name I didn't recognize but I answered, and said "Hello?" I heard his voice on the other line respond with it's familiar tone. My heart stoped completely for a moment. I said hello again and he hung up. I was nervous then. I didn't know what he wanted or what to do. I copied the number since it wasn't his and went to work. I then checked in the phone book and sure enough the name on my caller ID matched the last address he wrote to me from.
He hasn't called back, or written anything since October. I feel sometimes like I didn't really have a father. It's a shame I don't remember anything good about him. It's a shame he has to be such a hurtful asshole. Sometimes I want to call him, and vent out everything I was always afraid to tell him: the truth. When I used to see him I could never stand up for myself with him. I will never trust him again, but it hurts so much. I'm so tired of the shit in my family. All the endless drama. It's always one thing after another.
I've been thinking about my grandpa a lot lately. He passed away in early feb. This time of year wasn't the best for me. He was amazing. He would do anything for anyone, he worked so hard in everything he did. At times when I couldn't stand anyone in my family, he was always there. I never got mad at him ever. I really miss having someone to go to, someone to help me through things like he did. He was always supportive. I miss my super poppy. ♥