Death

Hi LDs. How are you on this fine Monday, July 4th - America's Independence Day?

I'm doing well, considering.

See, my mum's husband died last Sunday evening. He'd been in hospital for the last three weeks or so - liver was functioning at 10%, kidneys were shutting down, and he was retaining too many fluids. Alcoholism will do that to a person. They took him off of the ventilator and the sedation Sunday evening, and he was gone within an hour. Hubs and I took a few days bereavement leave and were up there with her, helping her stay busy. There was a family-only viewing Friday evening, and he was being cremated directly afterward so that his sisters could have some of his ashes when they left Saturday. Saturday afternoon/evening, all of his friends got together and had a party in my mum's front yard.

For a bunch of drunks, they kept the yard pretty damn clean - they were actually using the trash and recycling bins! Bill (next door neighbor) smoked up some pork shoulder, Whiskey John made a hella-good potato salad and pasta salad (even gave me the recipe), I supplied the dessert (pudding delight, bitches).

Some of those guys, for all their attitude and anger and loud personalities, actually cried when they saw George's box of ashes. Sobbing old men are the worst. There was more than once that beer tributes were given.

As much as he annoyed my mother and drove her up the wall, he would do anything for anyone. And it breaks my heart to see my mum so lost. I mostly didn't like him - he made an ass out of himself (and in turn, mum) at my wedding reception; he was lazy and didn't work; and he was an alcoholic (which is what ultimately killed him) - however, in some ways, he made my mum happy.

And that's all I really cared about. We're getting her a cremation necklace for her birthday in a few weeks. It's a dragon and really cool. She picked it out, and it suits both her and George well.

I think I'll actually miss you, ya dickhead. Give the Devil some hell for me, will ya?

Be safe out there, LDs.

Ms D

Father's Day 2011

LDs, I'm going to repost something that I did two years ago. Nothing's changed. In fact, I just copied and pasted it.

But it still is true today as it was two years ago.

Happy Father's Day to all you papas out there.

~~

Father's Day

When I got married, my grandfather walked me down the aisle. When I asked him to give me away, he couldn't understand why. He wondered why I didn't ask my mom or either of my uncles. "Because it's important to me that you do it." Later on, my grandmother told me that meant so much to him, that I loved him that much that I asked him to do that honor. My grandpa is the exact opposite of me in that he doesn't like being the center of attention for anything. He had so much trouble at the rehearsal remembering what to say when our preacher asks 'Who gives this woman to this man?' Loud and clear on our wedding day, so that everyone in the chapel heard him, he remembered 'Her family and I do.'

You might ask why my grandfather gave me away instead of my dad. Hmm - when you find him, you can ask him. You see, I was an 'oops.' My mom had just graduated high school and got pregnant with me. When she told the SD (sperm donor) about it, his last words to her were 'It's not mine.' My great-aunt (who helped deliver me) made the comment at the 'family meeting' my mom had called to let everyone know that she thought it best if she just gave the baby up for adoption. 'Over my dead body.' Even before I was born, my grandfather was defending me - my knight in shining armor. I lived with my grandparents until I was three, and because of some circumstances, they were actually trying to adopt me. My uncle was still in high school, so I already had a 'big brother.' I went to live with my mom and her new boyfriend.

When I was four, the boyfriend became her husband, my stepdad, and dad to my sister JR all in the same year. Until I was 12 (when they finally divorced), he was my father. If you grew up in an alcoholic and/or abusive household, I feel your pain. I know - I've been there. Surprisingly enough, I turned out to be a semi-well-adjusted, fully-functioning member of society. We'll leave that story for another time. However, I did not know he was not my dad until the summer I left my mom. That knowledge made me cry - that was good news that he wasn't my father.

When I was 14, my aunt married this really great guy who, in the span of four months got married, moved in with her, and acquired a 'daughter'. See, I went from a straight-A student to a C & D student. Divorce can do that to children. It didn't help that I became mom to JR and didn't have time to study and keep house and dinner and help with her homework. It scared the rest of my family. Grandparents, two uncles and an aunt decided that if they didn't do something, I might not have finished high school (and this all was the final result of one of the bravest things that my friend C ever did...and I will never quit thanking her). I moved in with my aunt and uncle. It was a mahoosive change, going from a household that didn't care what you did, whether or not you failed school, or who you were hanging out with (unless it interferred with her plans) to having a 'mom' and a 'dad' who worried about you, were always questioning about your day and school and boys and friends and sports. I panicked and rebelled. Things smoothed out. My grades skyrocketed (graduated with honors). I got into college. I hit rough patches (who hasn't), but even though I stumbled, I picked myself up and slogged on.

Even though the three men I write this for will most likely never see it, it is written for them. I had a father/daughter dance at my reception, split between those three very special guys.

None of them are my father, but they are all my Dads.

Remember to tell your dad, grandpas, and uncles "Happy Father's Day."

I feel blessed that I have three.

I've been thinking...

LDs, and for some of you who know me personally, that's not always a good thing.

I've been thinking about my persona here. I don't know why I'm "hiding" behind a pseudonym like Ms Dreamer.

So I think I'm going to make some modifications.

There's nothing that I need to hide, really. I don't have children. I've not been in trouble with the law. I don't do drugs (only the good legal ones).

I'll still hide my LDs names with code and first initials, unless they tell me I can call them out. But Mr Realist and I would be out of the closet, per se.

What do you think?

The possibly former Ms D

Boo To Me...

I know. I've been horrid at posting. And I have 21 followers plus countless other readers that I am neglecting!

Shoot me now. I'm going to try this again - documenting shit during the day and then posting at night. Let's see how far I get...

Ms D

A Letter...

Mumsy,

When I was young, I looked up to you for some things; others, I despised you for. You were always there, cheering me on at soccer games and basketball games. You'd help me with projects (remember the papier-mache mask that we made that morning before school, while you were trying to get ready for work?), and you explained that stupid girl thing. I despised you for staying with him so long; for letting him beat the shit out of me; for hearing me but not listening to the words.

As I grew older but still in school and had to move away from you (you don't know that C saved my life one night the summer before I left), I loved you because you were my mumsy, but I was so glad to be away from the heartbreak and neglect that you put us through. I flourished without you, and I know it had to break your heart sometimes when you weren't half in a bottle that neither one of your children were there with you. And there were times I know that you were glad to just be you while others shouldered your responsibility. It was hard sometimes, trying to explain why I lived with my aunt and uncle instead of my mum. Other times, not so much.

But as I look back on those times, at who I am today, and what I had to go through to get here, I have to smile. Because for as bad as we had it, I'm a better person. I have suceeded - I graduated high school...then college...I got married and have a house and cars and pets and a husband who loves me dearly. As I've gotten older, I find that more people understand what I went through because they had something similar. And there is a friend from high school who's wife went through my life, only hers. I'd like to meet her and compare war stories.

However, I have you for one of my best friends. We can argue and discuss and bitch and moan and laugh and cry and read and talk and go crazy or do nothing. We can talk every day or not at all for several weeks, and nothing changes. We're still us. And I'm grateful.

You are my mumsy, Mom, Mommy, Mum, Mother.

Happy Mother's Day.

I love you, Mumsy Dreamer

Ms Dreamer