I went to the barn yesterday morning, bright and early, camera in hand, ready to take some photos and ride. I had these great plans; do some work in the bosal, switch to the hack a little later then go out in the field, spend the rest of the morning after my ride with him, then go home and do some studying. It started out well enough. I rode for over an hour, Red was pretty wonderful, and I dismounted, took him to the barn for a long cool bath after he worked so hard in the heat, took more photos, and sat in the pasture and talked with my long distance friend for awhile.
A relaxed, happy, easy going morning. No real plans. It seemed like my week was finally settling down slightly after it had been quite..rough.
Funny how things change.
I got done somewhere around 1, and one Red was settled, I called and asked my mom if she’d mind driving up in the UTV to give me a ride (I walked up, and it was pretty hot at that point and really didn’t want to make that walk again.) and she agreed, drove up and I sat down and noticed she was fighting tears. I kept asking her what was wrong, and she told me she’d tell me in a few minutes. We drove to my sister’s house in the UTV, and she got out and I jokingly said, “What? Is dad dead?”
I’m not morbid; my father has been a drug addict for 20+ years, and he’s been in and out of the hospital for years. He was in the hospital this past week and was very bad, had lost most of his mental stability, but he was..he was doing okay? And he was discharged. And I figured I’d have more time. We weren’t close due to his addiction, and he took any drug he could get his hands on. He was a bad addict. He sold them. He took everything. He did everything. But still, he was my father, and I loved him. He’d escaped death so many times, been through so many accidents, overdoses, heart attacks, strokes…I couldn’t imagine him dying. I always expected him to escape death again. Until he didn’t.
My father passed away yesterday morning while sleeping. When I found out, I just shook my head in disbelief and didn’t really believe it until I was talking to a person over his body being transported to a medical examiner.
It seems extremely surreal. I’m 17. My father was 58 years old. Far too young to have her father die like this. Far too young for him to have died. 58. Drugs took his life. His family. His friends. He once had a family, a wife, animals, property, trucks, a job..and he lost all of those things because of drugs. He once had a beautiful home, and he left this world in a shabby apartment full of other addicts. My siblings and I went to collect his things, and I asked specifically for the Bible I had given him a few months back, and I only hope it made somewhat of a difference. That he found peace in the last few months. He told me he did. I hope so.
This story is such a long one. I can’t even begin to write about this journey I’ve been on with my father and my brother and drugs and muster up enough words and emotions to describe how it’s felt, how it’s been, in one post. And I won’t bore you all with details, and I won’t make this too terribly public. But I do want to say this.
I have seen so many great losses lately, some of which in a similar way. I have seen drugs destroy so many people, even in the blogging world. I’ve seen it destroy so many lives, and seeing that other people have gone through this too makes the burden much lighter. I’ve been able to get through this because of my Heavenly Father. I lost my dad years ago. Never really had him to begin with. But I’ve always had God, and that is the best comfort I could ask for.
One of my biggest desires was for my dad to see me ride. To see some of the rescues I’ve brought in and see how they’ve improved. To have him read some of the things I’ve written. To have him see me go to college and make something of myself, and he didn’t get to. And that hurts. But now, I have a lot of inspiration, I have an even bigger reason to go prove myself to others. To prove that I am bigger than this situation ever was, and that I’m bigger than the loss, than the hurt that drugs have put on me.
I’m not going to pause my life in order to suffer and grieve. I’m going to push this hurt back and defeat it, and do something better with my life than he did with his.