So I was awakened tonight by another nightmare. In this one I dreampt that my Daddy died. I had just spoken to him on the phone in the dream but couldn’t really talk. Then when I went to call him back I was told he was gone. Not only was I upset but I had massive guilt that I missed the opportunity for that last conversation.
This is the third such dream I’ve head in the last week.
I know exactly why this is.
My father and step mother came to visit the week after Christmas. I was ridiculously excited. My father was here when the Little Angel (LA)was born (actually arrived at the birth center just in time for her big reveal) and stayed for the first week of her life but he hasn’t seen her since. LA is so much bigger and more interactive since then and I couldn’t wait. Plus my step mother hadn’t gotten to meet her at all. Excitement.
It was hard because they were arriving on Christmas and actually had the option to come in on Christmas Eve. Hard because I was torn. Normally I drop everything and spend as much time as I can with my Dad when he’s here. But it didn’t seem fair to change traditions and drop things with my mom and Mark (plus rest of family who has traditions with us). So the next option became trying to fit everything in with everyone which didn’t seem feasible with new baby. We had no idea how LA would react to all of the madness that is Christmas. And unfortunately (but understandably and naturally) it wasn’t going to work to have everyone in one place.
So I figured we would see them Christmas evening and pretend it was Christmas Eve and have our own Christmas the next day. Fresh baby and undivided time. And two Christmas’s! But lines were crossed and he was trying not to put pressure on me so we all got together the day after Christmas, which meant I missed the opportunity to see him on Christmas (and idea which made me very happy). Which seemed fine when I thought I had a whole week but they ended up having to leave Wednesday morning early. Which means I only got three days and one of those days they were at the outlet malls shopping so I only got two days.
I admit it, I cried. For some reason stuff with my parents still often has the ability to reduce me to a disappointed little girl and I wanted that time with my Dad. That was the night of the first nightmare.
The nightmares about him dying stem from two things.
The first is that my father moved to Texas. A fact that I hate. If he’s reading this then some of what I’m about to say is news to him because it’s hard for me to admit any of this. I’m someone who when you say something scary or hard it becomes more real so sometimes I don’t. I get teary telling Steve, I can’t imagine telling my Dad.
I hate that he’s moved away and I get to see him anywhere from once a year to a few times. I know to a lot of people this is normal or even preferred but I truly hate it. I like my family and friends close. I’m a person of strong attachments and if I like you I want to be with you as much as possible and this is my DAD for goodness sake so obviously I’d like him closer! Plus, it makes me jealous often of my step family who gets to have my dad more than I do. I know they love him and that’s great, I understand because I adore my step father too. I get that he’s also a dad to them and I understand that too because my step father truly is also a father to me. But I still hate it. I’m glad his step children love him… that’s what I want for him and I’m glad he’s happy… but jealous nonetheless. Still Daddy’s little girl who would like to have more time with him.
It’s worse that LA is here because I want her to have a relationship with him. And I want memories of the two of them together.
Plus, and here’s the worst part… and I’m literally tearing up writing this. Every time I see my Dad I’m afraid it will be the last time I do. He’s had some health scares. Heart issues, a stroke. My step mother blessidly flew my brother and I out to Texas one time when he had to have open heart surgery. I know if something bad happened to him here there would be nothing I could do. But the idea of it happening so far away when it would take me so long to get there just makes me sick to my stomach.
Ok now I have tears running down my face.
So every time I see him and he leaves it crosses my mind, “Will this be the last time I see my Daddy?” And I hate it. So this past visit was very hard because it was cut so short.
To compound matters my paternal grandmother died before I was born so I never knew her and my paternal grandfather died when I was eight so I have few memories. I want LA to have more. I want more.
In my world parents rarely die but grandparents do. By making my father a grandfather I feel like I’ve made the possibility of losing him all too real.
Ok… I think I’m going to stop writing now. I had more to say about grandparents and new roles and all some philosophic stuff I’ve been thinking. But I’m crying and I’m tired and I think I’m going back to bed to cuddle my daughter and pick this up another time when it’s not so fresh.
I thought writing might make me feel better but it’s actually making it worse. Perhaps I’m being too honest lol
So sorry if this is raw or unedited. I am just hitting publish because I don’t know if I’ll feel like cleaning it up. If I did, I might just hit delete….