Archive for February 24th, 2009

February 24, 2009

this is too much

There were a couple, more pleasant things I was considering blogging about today. I finished a book last night I thought was worth mentioning. I watched a video this morning that made me feel good about writing (which is rare – most internet media related to writers/writing makes me feel like crap, lately).

But I can’t.

I can’t do it.

I don’t want to write about this because A) I don’t feel I deserve to have feelings about this – I’m not asking for sympathy or advice, and if I write about it, I feel like I’m making it seem like I am. B) It’s not my family’s story to tell. Maybe they would like to handle this privately. I don’t know I would feel if someone else were blogging about me if it was happening to my family and C) I don’t know what I could possibly say about this situation…

Lance’s Dad died yesterday.

It was unexpected. He wasn’t even 50. He has a wife, a home in Indiana, 4 dogs and a cat. In Michigan, there are two grown boys – my boyfriend and his older brother – another about to graduate high school, and Luke. I think Luke is 5.

He loved them all so much. He drove all the way up from Indiana to Flint see Lance play in a boring band concert – ones that I skipped out on – or to pick up his younger sons for a weekend at his house. He always extended the invitation for Lance and I to visit. He always offered hugs and cans of beer and a joke or twelve.

Last time we all spent time together, he told Lance he thought we were the perfect couple.

Since he has been living in another state for more than 5 years, I hadn’t met him until last November.

I met him at Leo’s funeral. Leo was Lance’s stepfather. He married Lance’s mother when Lance was young – 5, or 6 – and lived with them full time until he lost a long battle with pancreatic cancer.

Leo wasn’t even 50.

I am so lucky. So so so lucky that I haven’t had to deal with a death in my immediate family. But it leaves me feeling very ill-equipped to handle this kind of tragedy.

Especially when I’m not able to be physically with him. My boyfriend.

Two years ago, one of Lance’s cousins died of a drug overdose. He wasn’t even 30. He left behind kids. Maybe four of them. At least two. I don’t remember.

I’m not going to try to say anything else about this. Just tell your dad you love him today. If you can. Listen to some Pink Floyd or Cher or Tom Waits or whatever artist your Dad could never stop talking about.

And if it’s what you’re into, please pray for a family that has seen enough small tragedies in the past few years to last at least until the next decade.