How do you say goodbye?

Well, like always, it's been a long time since I've posted. I'm proud of my blog & I wish I spent more time on it.

Last weekend Wayne & I were at Krystal and Troy's in St Thomas for a performance of the Tartan Terrors. Thanks to K & T for the best birthday present I've had in a long time, tickets for the show and by getting there extra early, seats in the Flash Zone. Okay, so seats in the Flash Zone when the show is in a church is just a little different, but I still appreciated them. Aub & Leandra and my sis Gail were there as well and Krystal & Troy were good enough to put us all up for the night. Considering that aside from Wayne & Troy, we don't know what it means to go to bed at a reasonable time, poor Yoshi, who was on babysitting detail, got a taste of his insane Aunt's, Uncle & Gramma.

The reason I mentioned last weekend, was that I logged onto my blog so my son Aub could get a taste of his mother's poor attempts at writing. He was impressed, but probably would have got more out of it if he was sober. I don't really care, I write for me and if anyone has the time to browse this endeavor of mine I thank them for their patience. I just wish I got more comments, 'cause maybe that would encourage me to write more.

So, "How do you say goodbye?" That might seem like a rather obtuse title for a blog, but I have my reasons.

For anyone who knows me or who has read some of my past posts, you will know that I am a child of divorce. Now today that is pretty common, but back when I was 13, 40 years ago in 1968, it wasn't quite so normal.

My parents married in 1946 after only knowing each other for 3 months. Back then marriage came before sex, for the most part anyway. Maybe if they had bedded each other first, they never would have married. Needless to say, after 21 years, 3 months and 18 days, my parents separated. My dad had been seeing Kay, the other woman, for a few years at that point. Her husband 'found out' and dad & Kay decided that the time had come to make the big move.

I don't hold grudges. My mother still talks about when dad left "us". Not her, but me too. I was an innocent bystander in all of this. Yes dad left mom, and knowing her like I do now, I can't say as I blame him. And do you know what? They both did better without each other! Dad left me, but only as collateral damage. If I had said "Dad, I want to go and live with you." he would have taken me in a minute and so would have Kay. I would have been a completely different person. I wouldn't have been pregnant and married at 15. I wouldn't have had 5 kids by the time I was 23 and I probably wouldn't have 12 grandkids now. So who's to say my life would have been better. My life is what I've made it and for the most part I love it.

So back to "How do you say goodbye?". Actually, I'm pretty good at this. I left home at 15 and got married. I forced my first husband to leave after some pretty nasty physical fights. I've experienced my children leaving home, returning and leaving again. Wayne thinks maybe we need a revolving door or else stop giving them keys! I've left jobs and moved to different parts of Hamilton more times than I can count. So what's so hard about saying goodbye?

There's all different kinds of goodbyes. There's the one that's said when you know you'll see or talk to someone soon, often the next day. There's the kind that I said to Krystal & Troy and their kids when they lived in Manitoba and we would go for a visit and I knew it would be a year or more until I saw them again. There's the goodbye that you say everyday to just about anybody that doesn't really mean squat. Then there's the last goodbye. The one that no one want's to think about. Saying goodbye to someone you really love for the last time. Finis. All done and no take backs. The last goodbye.

Just after Christmas, Kay had to rush dad to the hospital 'cause he couldn't breathe. They did x-rays and diagnosed pneumonia, but also booked an appointment with the Cancer Clinic. Now the pneumonia wasn't such a big shock. I had it the start of December and we had a Christmas Pot Luck on December 15th with everyone here, so dad could have caught it from me, even though I was supposed to be all better by then. So I got the call from Kay about dad being sick and having to go for cancer tests and I worried a little bit and put it aside. After the first round of tests that came back inconclusive, we all let our guard down. Dad & Kay rebooked their trip to Cuba that had been cancelled due to his health. The doctor's report appeared to be negative and we kind of laughed at the circumstances. Dad couldn't possibly have cancer. He was active and no where near old enough to be sick.

A week and a half ago the other shoe dropped. Dad had to go for a biopsy. This past Monday I got a call saying that the results were in. Cancer of the Lung. Okay, dad is strong and healthy. He's more than willing to have a lung or part of one removed. He'll do radiation, but really doesn't want to do chemo because of the side effects. Dad and Kay came over on Tuesday evening so I could print some pictures of their euchre team off for them. We talked a little about the cancer thing, but it was pretty positive.

When I came home from work on Thursday there was a message from dad to call him right away. I think I knew even before I placed the call. The cancer is inoperable. The doctor's are giving him a year. He's going to try chemo even though he know's it won't make the cancer go away. It might just give him a little more time. He know's that there are 2 of his grandkids getting married in the next year. Laurel gets married this September and Aub gets married next May. He has greatgrandchild number 13 due this October. So suffice it to say that dad still has unfinished business to take care of. So do I.

For the last 40 years, my mother has taken great delight in reminding me that my father hasn't done enough for me. After all she was the one who was always there with a care package when we needed it. She was the one who made sure that the kids had any clothes that they needed. She was the one that was always there with a hand out if I was strapped for cash. Now don't get me wrong, I greatly appreciate what she has done for me and mine. If I added up all that I owe her, I would probably have to give her all of my pays for a year to get caught up. But she's wrong.

My dad has been there for me. He was the one who did repairs on our house on East Bend, back in the Art days, that caused him to slice his hand open and have to take time off work. He was the one who dragged my back from Toronto when I couldn't handle my life anymore (3 kids under 4 with a drunk for a husband). He was the one who drove me to the hospital when Shawn was being born. He was the one who took me, Art and all 5 kids to Florida in 1983 as our Christmas gift. He was the one I called when Art beat the shit out of me and I had to go to the hospital. He was the one who helped Wayne and I move 2 households of furniture in a cube van. He was the one who offered me part time bartending work at the hall whenever there were rentals. And he was the one who hired me to bartend evenings at Club 107 after Wayne & I had bought our house and I stood the chance of getting laid off from my fulltime job. I worked for dad for a year and a half bartending and I never did get laid off from Capo. And the thing that dad did the best. He let me live my own life!!! I didn't have dad and Kay over for Christmas, birthdays, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, Easter and Thanksgiving. They spent those holidays alone or with Stan and Marnie or maybe Mel and Teresa. While mom alternated between living her life and trying to run mine, my dad stood back. He let me be me.

I wish I could go back 40 years and change things, but I can't. I'm 53 years old and I'm still Daddy's Little Girl. I know in the next year I will have to be strong. I've always been the strong one. Wayne is wonderful. He keeps telling me to let my guard down. My answer to this is that I have built up a big, strong wall around myself to keep from getting hurt and even though I know I have to let it crumble a little, I'm still not ready to be hurt.

My goal for tonight has been to stay up and drink and think and hopefully cry. Well so far I've stayed up late, drank and thought but I still haven't been able to cry. Maybe you'll cry a few tears for me. I'ld like that. Even if you don't shed a few tears, think about me, and if you know how to say goodbye, please let me know.

Anne