"When no-one else can understand me
When everything I do is wrong
You give me hope and consolation
You give me strength to carry on
And you're always there to lend a hand
In everything I do
That's the wonder
The wonder of you
And when you smile the world is brighter
You touch my hand and I'm a king
Your kiss to me is worth a fortune
Your love for me is everything
I'll guess I'll never know the reason why
You love me as you do
That's the wonder
The wonder of you"
Now that I am a parent, I can understand what these words mean. They mean the same for my husband, but towards a child it is natural. This unconditional love, the immediate falling over heals for your child is so beautiful. I expected to feel overjoyed when I saw her for the first time, but honestly, I was so tired I couldn't even process what I was feeling. It was a buzz in my brain, but I was in complete awe that we made her and I carried her and she's here! But what I did notice was despite the fatigue, my husband and I did everything we could to make her comfortable. She hardly cried at the hospital. We took care of her. That is unconditional love. Getting up after a few hours sleep, feeding her through cracked bleeding nipples, changing gross, stinky diapers that not always contain the grossness, and changing the clothes that were attained by the grossness. Unconditional love is ferocious, terrifying, and amazing. But unconditional love hurts when the source is gone. I know I love my father. I know I would protect him should the time arise. I never understood what unconditional love was. I love my husband. But I fell in love with him. I learned to love him unconditionally. But your parents, you just loved them at first sight. My daughter loves me and I feel it when she looks to my soul when she's having her bottle and I am the only one in the universe. I feel it when she smiles at a silly face I made. I feel it when she laughs at her father's faces. I feel it when I miss my daddy. I have never wanted to cry in his arms as much as I do now.
Sometimes I wish I had something to blame it on like bad nutrition or smoking. That way I can say "if only he quit smoking, or he listened to his doctor". I don't even have the luxury of putting the blame elsewhere, because there is no blame to be thrown. He had a brain tumour. Simple. It spread. Simple. We have to give thanks for the little blessings (but don't say this to me because it will piss me off). I had the chance to say goodbye, several times. I had the chance to say I love you, for all the times I didn't. I don't regret anything except for the times I said I would do something with him and never planned it. But it is in the past, and I will not hold on to that. I will be grateful for the time we did have, and we did have a great time. I will be happy that I got to cry in his arms. I will be happy that I was there when he passed away. I needed to be there when he passed away. I don't know if I needed the proof, but I wish I could erase the last picture I have of him. The picture of the shell that held his soul for 59 short years. I'm happy I was there for my mom. But I am so very very sad.