I've been struggling with topics for the blog lately. Mostly because I have brought you up to speed on the life O' Megan E. Radke and since we're in present day...where the hell do I take this thing now? I think I have given everyone enough background on myself that I really shouldn't frighten you with any story I have to say...so I think it's time I 'fess up to one of the darkest, most obnoxious days..that lead into weeks..that turned into a couple months... that I can look back and giggle at now...but man I was angry... Dad, in writing this you know I love you, and you encourage my blog writing, so please don't be mad.. but I apologize in advance. :)
As you recall, my mother left this sweet earth early. That first year following her death was a real roller coaster. It was the typical year of firsts as I've mentioned, and just when the whole year of firsts was done with, and I was getting excited for the holidays to be upon us yet again, and was getting used to my new normal, it was then that my dad dropped a bomb on me. For whatever reason I think I'll always remember this and where I was, like people remember where they were when Kennedy was shot. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, one of the first real cold days, and there was actually some significant flurries coming down and accumulating. I was getting excited because my new work posse was getting together for an early Thanksgiving feast. I had been excited about it all week long, it was going to be an afternoon of laughs, tons of food, and of course multiple adult beverages were going to be consumed. I was just starting to get ready when I thought I better call dad before I head to the feast. It started out with normal chit chat, and I don't even know how it was brought up, but here is the conversation, nearly verbatim that followed:
Dad: So I have something to tell you, and I think you're not going to like it...
Me: (On high alert, and immediately pissed) What?
Dad: So...I have a date next Friday night...
*Now this is where the crazy happens, at this point I see red..black...start hyperventilating...and then the word vomit happens....Also note the only child tendencies that reared their ugly head..*
Me: Why?
Dad: (on edge and just as sassy) Well why not?
Me: Wow, guess it doesn't matter that I'm going to be home for Thanksgiving that weekend.....
Dad: Now Megan, I suggested we get together, I didn't expect her to say yes, and when she picked a date I just went with it..
Me: Who is she? Who's the whore?
Dad: Now Megan! Well...if you must know, it's (please note name change to protect the innocent) Cindy...
Me: Cindy...Cindy who?! How long have you been talking to this Cindy?! Sneaking around?!
Dad: You know Cindy, I dated her in high school..
Me: The one you were engaged to?! That's great dad, going to move as fast as you did when you were young, go out, rekindle some shit and then get married? The entire time you were married to mom did you think about her?? God forbid you take some time and grieve for your DEAD wife...I mean it has been a little over a year now, you were just itching to find someone...maybe you need to properly grieve for your wife, go to a grief counselor...but if you want to go out with your Whore Du Jour for an evening of fast sex then knock yourself out!
Dad: Your mom is the one that left me Megan, not the other way around!
Me: She was sick Dad! Mom was sick, and we didn't know it!
This episode was the start of an hour long conversation of crying, shouting, and tears. By the time it was over I didn't even want to go to the damn early Turkey Day celebration. I wanted to drink myself into oblivion and pass out. I had cried so hard, my eyes were nearly swollen shut. I hadn't cried like that, or been that emotional since the first few weeks after mom had died. And for the first time, I got angry at mom. I was mad that she had left and that dad was doing this and thus making my world, the new world where she's non existent, turn completely upside down all over again.
When I would tell people about this, there were two camps: The one was my favorite: complete shock and disgust that he is moving way too fast after finding his dead wife in the garage. The other camp was the one that I wanted to join...but just couldn't find it in my heart to do so, this was the: Good for him! He wants to live his life...the people in this group usually followed up their excitement for him with this statement for me: "Well, don't you WANT him to be happy?!" No, assholes, I want him to die miserable and alone and not enjoy his life. Of course I want my dad to be happy! But I wanted him to take some time and really consider what kind of life change happened to him over the course of a year. And since when does being happy mean you HAVE to have a significant other?? I knew it was hard on him. I didn't have to LIVE in that house. I didn't have to walk out to the garage every day where he found her...the man never ran a vacuum until mom died. (Which mind you was hilarious because I would come home and he would say things like, 'notice anything? I vacuumed!') He was learning to cook for himself, clean the house, do laundry, seperate his pills...mom did all of that for him. Not because he couldn't...but because that's what mom did.
And now...another woman was going to be in the picture, which meant one thing to me: I was a product of something that was officially null and void. At least with mom gone dad and I still had all the memories about mom...but now what were the rules? Could I mention mom? Should I mention mom? Was I going to have to meet this woman? The thought of this woman in MY mother's house, the house that my mom took care of cleaning, and worked hard to maintain, and fix what she could when she and dad could afford it...some other woman was going to be there?!
I tried, LORD I TRIED...to get used to the idea. But by Christmas my dad was acting like a total moron. (Sorry dad, but you were.) Dad and I had mini blow ups all the time at this point, I would ask questions and usually I was looking to provoke a little bit...but mostly try to figure out what the fuck he was trying to do. I tried my best to put on a happy holidays face...but it was hard because by Christmas dad had started taking down mom's pictures around the house. We had been in so many fights (and we never fought before that point) and so many things were said, and he told me more than any child should ever know about a parent's relationship...that I started to resent him. They were married for nearly 35 years, things change in that time, relationship evolve...but dad was only focusing on the negative, and making sure that I knew what hell he had been put through... I knew my mother wasn't perfect...and he knew he wasn't...but because I was acting bat shit crazy, he had to try to counter act that and justify why he was doing what he was doing. And what was he doing you ask?
Not only was he taking down mom's pictures, but on the first date with Cindy he took her to mom's favorite restaurant, he was spending Saturday's with Cindy's family baking holiday cookies, (This was the man that would get to a family function and promptly fall asleep on the couch, but please be elated to head to a lefsa session with the new girlfriend...) running back and forth to Rochester 2-3 nights a week to visit her..the man is 60 years old, he scares me behind the wheel of a car on a sunny day...he's not the driver he once was...He was headed to her family Christmas, talking every night on the phone with her and ending it with, 'love you!' Barf. Cindy is a nurse and needed to work on Christmas...and I was trying to get drunk on Christmas, make food and try to make this as normal as it could be, considering I could only look at my father and want to throw a heavy object at his head. Next thing I know, he's on the phone wishing her a Merry Christmas and he was handing the phone to me...I was to thank her for a pair of earrings she picked out for me...I don't know what I said, I tried to sound extra friendly...but it was a blur..and then it was over...In the next breath dad was getting out the camera. Now, this is the moment I was officially sent over the edge. Cindy had given him a pair of Christmas PJ's. Red flannel pants with a Tshirt that said (I still cringe at this) "No Mistletoe Needed" or something stupid like that. My dad, Mister bi lateral hip replacements, Mister Multiple Sclerosis, is starting to get on his hands and knees..and CRAWL under the Christmas tree! He holds the camera up to me and says, "Cindy wants a picture of me under the tree in the jammies she gave me, because I'm all she wanted for Christmas this year, so I thought I would take a picture and send it to her at work tonight in email..." That wasn't the end, we then had to take pictures with the other things she gave dad and some milk bones or something that she gave to Einstein. I think my voice was about 8 octaves higher than usual that entire holiday because I kept biting the inside of my cheek so I would keep from saying something stupid and fighting on Baby Jesus' birthday.
So what happened to Cindy you ask? Turns out a few weeks later dad thought things were moving a little fast. While I couldn't help but be elated, I of course felt ridiculously guilty because I had been such a pill...even though I didn't want to be. I just couldn't help feeling like I no longer had a place in that house. It was bad enough it didn't feel like home because mom wasn't there and dad was making it his own...but realizing that one day dad could...and more than likely would bring someone else into the picture, into my mom's house...there wouldn't be a place for me any more. No matter how many times dad told me that wasn't the case, and even I know how ridiculous it sounds, I can't help how I feel. And that my friends, is how I feel about that. Sure I'm 30, and love my life...but I'm an only child and I'll pout if I want to.
The Mayor is still flying solo these days, he has a new motorcycle thingy that he is obsessed with right now, but I know the winter will bring on the blues for him again, and soon, as I know he is already, will be back on the dating websites, trying to find someone. Perhaps not as full blown as 'the Cindy incident' was... but someone to fill the void... If there was one thing I took away from that shit show, was that no matter what age you are: 16 or 60, when you have a crush on someone, you will always act stupid. Some of us just hide it better than other, huh Mr. No Mistletoe Needed? Love you dad. Thanks for putting up with my crazy, especially in that two month period. :)
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