Always Loving, Always Loved - Oct. 20th, 1966 - Dec. 26th, 1984

When she was born, I looked at her and thought she was the most beautiful baby in the world. In my twenty years I had never looked like anyone or had anyone look like me. Being adopted there are never familiar similarities to anyone in your family. But looking at her little face I saw bits and pieces of myself.

And when she died I lost more then bits and pieces of myself. More then bits and pieces that I never found again. Losing a child is indescribable, words can't speak to that kind of grief and pain.

An emmy award should be given to every parent who has ever lost a child and not turned to drugs or alcohol to anesthetize themselves against the pain. Because those of us that survive without drug or alcohol become award winning actors portraying the living.

You learn to smile and laugh. You fake happiness and mentally write suicide notes. You get really good at faking, until the time draws near to the anniversary of their death.

And then you can't hide it very well and those that know you best, that were there to share in the dreadful event know what you know. They know how hard each day, each minute is to your spirit.

Most of the year I can speak quite clinically about the daughter that once was then wasn't. But come the time between the anniversary of her birth and the anniversary of her death come the "dark" times when you mentally write those notes daily, sometimes hourly.

The times you can't tell if you are tired from lack of sleep or tired from the grief that wraps around your heart and squeezes.

Then when you are just about ready to grab that notepad, the date passes and the squeeze around your heart lessens and you breath a sigh and know that for a while you can go on. And you store away that notepad for another year.

At that time I remind myself how fortunate I was to have had a daughter so wonderful that the pain of losing her lasts a lifetime.

Love to you and yours,
NanaCarol

What Makes A Person A Parent

To me one of the great mysteries of the universe is how men can disassociate themselves from their children after a divorce. Is it guilt because they aren't there for the day to day routine of parenting? Or are they just totally irresponsible, heartless humans, or better said....inhumans.

During my marriage I never questioned the love my spouse felt for his children. When home, he was there, not mind wandering about life outside the home. Sure he worked long hours and much of the day to day parenting duties were my responsibility but that was not unusual for the times. He had a career and I only had a job, one I could call to tell them I had sick kids and wouldn't be in.

When the the big "D" happened and the kids and I returned to my hometown I felt although more difficult he would continue to see his children. Little did I imagine he wouldn't see his children for fourteen years.

He missed school plays, T-Ball, Football and countless wrestling matches. He wasn't there to see one son take first in district. He wasn't there to see the other son take second in state. He couldn't drive the 150 miles to see his son wrestle at Regionals. He couldn't drive 15 miles to watch football games where his sons were football heroes.

He wasn't there when his step daughter, who thought of him as her father, drew her last breath after a vigilante battle with cancer. He wasn't there when her casket was lowered into the ground while her brothers, tears streaming down their faces, said goodbye to their much loved sister.

He wasn't there in the months and years to follow as they struggled with their grief. He didn't call to console them. I don't think he even thought about their loss.

What kind of man was he? I don't know. I have thought and thought about what kind of man he is. He spent thirty years serving his country. He loves his sister, nieces and nephews and was a devoted son. But he couldn't put his children's needs in front of his own.

I consider myself to be a bright women but wonder how I could have been so stupid to think this man had the potential to be a father. It makes me question my ability to judge people. Maybe that is why I have never remarried.

What is even more amazing is that my story is not unique. I have heard so many sad stories from single Moms about the "lost" Dads. What causes this phenomenon? Is it a genetic flaw that only men carry? We know it is a character flaw, but could it be a genetic flaw?

Love to you and yours,
NanaCarol