Sorry

First, I must apologize for being a whinning idiot. I really was having a hard time last week, everything was getting to me, and well, my mood showed in my entry. I rarely get that way, in fact, I try to work around the "bad" stuff. The weather hasn't been very spring like, and that got to me too, plus the fact that this past Saturday was the 4th anniversary of my father's passing. I really never grieved for him, and probably never will. I was pregnant the whole of his illness, and when he passed away, so I didn't really have time to deal with the realizations that he was dying a terrible death, and I didn't want to deal with the fact that he was slipping away, painfully. Truth is, I wanted to share my joy with him in the upcomming birth of my daughter, but was afraid to feel the joy, I was worried about my father, being harrasseed daily by my brother, and in general trying to hold down a full time job, keep my household running, keep dust off of the celing, make meals, and get the kids to their activities. All while pregnant, and trying to visit my Dad every day.
I wanted to know if the baby was a boy or a girl, becasue my father wanted to know. This was the only pregnancy that I felt that I needed to know, and guesss what? The baby wouldn't show its sex. She was stubborn even then! It hurt me to tell my father that I didn't know, I wish I did and was able to tell him, it would have made things easier for him to know his grandaughter before he died.
I am still in denial, not real denial, but part of me wants to hear his voice on the phone when I pick up the receiver, and part of me wants to run to him and hug him again.
What makes it even more difficult, is the fact that my mother doesn't even talk about him often. I miss him so much, and I really know that she does too, but it is almost as if he didn't exist at all.
Heck, I can't even bring myself to go to the cemetary, not any day, especially not father's day. Every year, my husband, gives up part of his day , offers to take me to the cemetary, to "go see my father on Father's Day," but I refuse. I hate that place, and I know he would too. He did in fact, my mom's father is burried there as is her step brother. He didn't like that cemetary, and really didn't want to go there with my mother to "visit."
I wish I could grieve, I wish I could have, but my life had to go on, I had others to live for and to go on for, and there was no time for me. The baby was comming, she was born a month after my Dad passed away. I had to keep going, the clothes weren't going to arrive on their own, the mattress for the crib wasn't going to get picked out on its own. etc....................................and then, WHAM! The baby was going to be born. I had to take care of that, I had to get prepared for that, and the C-section, the recovery etc...................................
So life went on and on and on, and here I am, still grieving, never quite not thinking about what it would be like to have my Father here, never really knowing what it would have been like if, and only if.
That is all for now, life is going on all around me, so I must jump back into it and tend to what needs tending.........................................................................................................................................