Losing the dad I don't even have
12:51 p.m. x February 02, 2004
So I guess I lied. It got to me.
I already lost one dad. He had his faults but he was my dad. I loved him like a daughter is supposed to, even if I was a disrespectful brat at times.
Now I'm threatened with losing another one.
No, Darrell isn't really my father. He's not even married to my mom. That doesn't matter though. He's been in my life in some way since I was about 9 years old. He took me to get ice cream so I could get out of the house when I was 10. He took me and my mom out to dinner all the time. He did favors for my mom when she was single like putting plastic on her windows - which kept not just her, but me, warm as well. This was all before they were even a couple.
They hooked up when Brittany was probably about a year old and they've been together ever since. He asked her to move in with her about 4 1/2 years ago, and she did... not only saving her from loneliness but from a house that was crumbling around her and a landlord that didn't care.
(Remind me to tell you about the guy that almost died from living in the house I rented before I moved to Ohio, because of the black gunk in the tub that I wrote about quite often in here.)
He's been grandpa to my kids for the last 4 years. They don't know anyone else as that, at least not on my side of the family. Sure, the older two talk about my dad but Darrell has been the one to cuddle them and take them to the park, and sneak their grandma's candy to them when she's not looking.
He never had kids of his own, so he never had grandkids either, and he does lose his patience a lot easier than someone that has raised their own kids. That's understandable though.
Ronald caught his first fish with Grandpa Darrell. Kimberley carries around a picture of him and kisses it. Brittany wants me to stop what I'm doing at times to call Grandpa so she can say hi.
They love him and so do I, eccentric or not. Sure he has his faults. Don't we all? You take the good in a person and focus on it til you don't worry about the bad. I do anyway.
And what it boils down to is that I'm about to watch my dad.. maybe not my real dad, but my dad die from lung cancer. I know that he could be fine, or the tests could even be wrong. Right now that's what I should be thinking but I can't help it. I heard the word "cancer" and I heard the words "two spots" and it scared the living hell out of me.
He may not be my biological or even my legal father, and he's not even technically a stepfather, but he's not just a boyfriend to my mom, and he's not just some guy to me. He's been there for me almost as far back as I can remember and I fucking hate this! I hate that my mom has to watch the man she loves get thin and lose all of his hair just like she had to when her own father died. I hate that my mom is going to be all alone in Illinois. I hate that I finally found a dad that I could admit I had because he wasn't drunk all the time and he's about to go away just like the last one did. I hate that my kids are so in love with their grandfather that their eyes twinkle and God is taking that away!! I FUCKING HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE it. I know everyone dies but he's not even 50 years old yet! He's got 3 graduations to attend and he's got dances to do as the grandfather of the bride. He's got his own "real" family that loves and respects him as well. He's got a twin sister that will be lost without him. My mom is the diabetic, sick one. I don't want her to go either but she's supposed to go first. He just has a bad back and a few head colds. He isn't the one I was supposed to prepare myself for the death of. Not now. Not yet. He's supposed to get rich from his little roaster pan invention that only he understands, or at least be alive to watch it flop. He's supposed to spend a lot more years coming home with sugary treats from the old ladies at work. They aren't supposed to outlive him!!! Fuck!
So yeah - don't tell me that this is probably nothing. I know that there's a damn good chance he'll be okay. I have to prepare myself for the worst, though... that I'll not only have one dead father by the time I'm 30, but two.