Happy Monday! Well, it’s been great so far. I spent the weekend enjoying time at home and hanging out with my best friend while working on a project for two weekends out, and discussing plans for the move out.
I can sense my mother having issues with the near future plans, but all in all, it is the right thing for my husband and I to do. Had a death in the extended family over the last weekend, though due to family issues, I was unable to go. Not only that, but the lamp post in the front yard fell sometime on Friday, and my husband and I wish my father was still around to help with the situation.
Sadly, missing those close to me that have passed on hit me a bit this weekend, but we powered through, taking care of the lamp post issues ourselves. My husband’s electricity class in college years ago came in handy this weekend as he cut the wires and siliconed them safe to make sure nothing happened to the wiring before we could cap them off.
What hit me the hardest was that my father was not there to see the lamp post fall over. He was not there to seal off the wires, and he’s not there to turn off the electricity in the garage. It was during this time that it hit me that we are the adults for sure, now. We’re the ones who have to learn how to do this ourselves. As the store clerk was walking my friend and I around the store looking for the proper equipment to cap off the wires, I had no clue what he was talking about, and hoped I had given him the right information. I was scared, for the first time in my life, that if I bought the wrong stuff, and my husband didn’t fully know what he was doing, he could get shocked while capping off the wires.
My father knew so much while he was a live; he tested genius level on his IQ test he took in high school. They made him retake the test twice, thinking he was cheating, but he already knew the answers, and was able to work them all out in his head. Due to his time serving in the Vietnam War, he had contact with Agent Orange, and suffered deterioration of his organs along the way.
And now? He’s left behind my wonderful mother who misses him terribly, and feels so lost without him, and a daughter who knows nothing about electricity, but is determined to learn what she can to do her best to keep up her new home. There are times where I wish I had paid more attention, asked more questions, and hung around while he was working on something electrical. However, I can’t gain those days back, now.
Sadly, I am one of those daughters that thought her father would live forever, as he always looked young, acted young, and was light-hearted throughout his life. We all look younger than our ages, my family. My mother doesn’t look like she’s almost 70, heck, my father only looked his age toward the end, as his body wasted away while it broke down after years of him sustaining his chemical laden body. My sister and I don’t look like 40 has smacked us across the face yet, but seeing our parents going quickly is scaring us.
And now my husband and I are signing off on our first home on Friday, and I can’t get over how things have progressed so quickly, when my childlike heart believed they’d live into their 90’s since they never truly outwardly aged. Now, things are catching up, and I wonder what it was that tripped all this. It’s almost surreal for me as my family is no ordinary family. We love without question, and it always seemed we were the epitome of the family of Mork and Mindy because I always felt our family was not from here.
We were never seen as the average family; neighbors always cherished us for our uniqueness, and eccentricities. We never did anything normal: we lived in a ranch home with a huge boat taller than the house in the backyard, went on month-long vacations all around the country, came home with funny gadgets, practically lived at the local Science Equipment store where my father was a regular, well-loved, and felt at home buying motors and gadgets to fulfill his project-filled mind. He worked with the developers to build the house we’re residing in for the moment, and his individualistic imprint lies within those walls. A part of me wonders if we’ll be leaving him behind when we sell the house; an odd notion, I know.
But here we are, in the home stretch, about to leave behind the driveway I roller skated on for years throughout my childhood, the neighborhood where I grew up defending myself against the rowdy boys in the neighborhood. The block where all my friends lived, and then moved away. The two fir trees representing my sister and I, one was struck by lightning, and therefore will never grow any taller, the pool and deck my father built around it, creating his own paradise he thoroughly enjoyed while he was alive. The basement fireplace with all the crazy fire emergency memories.
All that… Leaving it all behind; moving on. As I think about all these things regarding my father and the fact that I will be moving on for the last time from the house I grew up in, I have a nasty pain in my shoulder, reminding me of my father’s early retirement due to his shoulders, and the pain he suffered from it. It feels as if he’s giving me something to remember him by; a piece of himself he no longer carries with him as he’s free of that flesh he inhabited. He lived quite the life, and did so much for others, he was a beautiful, and funny man. He could be stern when needed, but rarely. He was making us laugh most of the time, and enjoyed life so much, he squandered our inheritance, as he used to say.
With my Reiki Pyramid stuck on my pained shoulder, I see it as a symbol that my father’s burdens are not mine to bear. I will move on with my husband this weekend, hopefully moving our belongings out of the house, as well as out of the storage bin, and into the garage at the new home, so we can paint, and decorate before moving everything in. I will be so excited, that I will want to move there and sleep there at night, but can’t forget, there’s no internet *head hits desk*.
Soon, the new bathroom will have a new shower head to enjoy, we will have quiet walls in which to sleep within, we will not have any shared walls with other tenants, we will not have unexpected guests walking in through our doors, and we will not have to worry about my mother intruding when I wish to be left alone to recoup from serving others.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother; however, after time everyday of serving others, and going home to serve my mother, I feel I lack time from getting a chance to recoup, recharge, and bring my energy stores back up. It’s difficult when you feel as if you bring your job home every day; it feels as if it never ends.
After the conversation with my mother a couple weeks ago, she understands better what the situation truly is. It’s hard for her, but knowing she has people she visits with more these days, helps her emotionally. She laments at seeing the neighborhood for the last time. This will be her last summer in the house, and the last season she could even think of relaxing in the pool. We’re not done yet, but soon, we will have everything ready to fully move on, and start anew.
New beginnings; beginning of the end of an era that lasted for forty years. I will finally be able to have a life outside of my past, and outside of my father’s dreams and aspirations. As I wear the ashes of my father around my neck, I will remember and love him always. I don’t like doing anything without him. He is my strength, and my inspiration, that anyone can do whatever they wish as long as they find a way to make it work.
I love and miss you terribly, Dad. RIP