Dave passed away this morning, they think it was a heart attack...
After our quick conversation I turned to Amanda, who had slept in my bed. With my early-morning blurred vision I looked at her and blurted, Amanda, Daddy died.
Tears, oh the tears. I quickly told her I had to go wake up Brandon and tell him. Off to his room I went, still blurry-eyed, and I rubbed his side to wake him. I didn't hesitate, I told him I had some bad news. I told him Daddy died and could he please come into my room so we could be together.
Shock, tears, disbelief. We just sat and held each other and cried. After the initial jarring shock wore off, the crying tapered off and Brandon uttered the words that he would utter several more times throughout the day -
Well...he had it coming.
Under normal circumstances those words would have felt cold and heartless. From the mouth of this child though, they were words spoken after several years of watching his dad be overcome by the death grip of alcoholism. They were words that spoke of the reality of a child who knew his dad had been on the brink of death just two months before. They were words of an incredibly smart nine-year-old child who chose to view the actions of his dad realistically.
He said what no one else had the balls to say.
Sooner or later he would lose the battle - it was inevitable. While alcohol wasn't the deciding factor in his death, we all knew he was on a fast track to nowhere. It came as a huge relief that he passed like he did - quickly and quietly in his sleep. No struggle, no pain. His girlfriend wasn't awakened when it happened, didn't hear him complain of pain, didn't notice any physical reactions to pain. He simply didn't wake up when the alarm went off. The kids lived in constant fear that he would die as a result of alcohol - now they can rest their scared little minds and hearts knowing he at least went so peacefully.
After collecting ourselves and making a few phone calls, we took the car to get its oil changed, quickly packed our bags, and headed off for the long drive to Denver. While the eight-hour drive was miserable as always, it was really a nice time to talk about things, to ask questions, to try to understand where our lives were headed.
Since Dave and I were never divorced, I was legally responsible for him. Sitting in the funeral director's office was surreal, and once I left I lost it. I sobbed the whole way back to Dave's sister's house; I just wept for the husband I once loved so much, wishing I still had that man I married fourteen years ago.
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And one more thing before I close, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone for your well-wishes, your prayers, your thoughts, and your donations. I couldn't have made it through this without the support of all my family and friends across the world.
9 comments:
You will likely feel a range of emotions from love to hate, sometimes at the same time. I wish you and your children peace.
I am terribly sorry to hear this,
As I was saying before I hit the post button by accident... I am terribly sorry to hear this, death is without question, the worst part of life. Thoughts are with you.
It seems so shocking, but I'm thankful for the peaceful parts that have come with it. Bless your sweet kids, and good luck with starting this chapter of your life. It's crazy how things go. Hope your new job adventure is interesting. Thanks for sharing your heart with us.
I send more hugs...
Oh Kim... Sending love your way ...
Sorry is all I can say.
(((hugs))) to you and the family.
Dearest Kim, It is indeed a blessing that there is now an end in sight for the pain of living with alcoholism. There will be good days and there will be bad days, and through it all there will be friends and family to hold, love, and care for you and your amazing kids. I wish only the best for you and your family as you find your way to a place of peace and even forgiveness....someday. As always, I am here if you need anything.
Steve
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