Missing My Folks...

There are certain times of the year when I really miss my parents. The Christmas holiday season is typically one of those times. Not for any reason regarding me reflecting on a stellar Christmas while they were around….it’s more of having spent a good number of years sharing the Christmas holiday with the families with friends, or of women that I have dated, and having spent so many holiday celebrations with people other than my own family, that makes me mourn not having my immediate family around for such occasions more often…

My mom died of Hodgkin’s disease in 1984. She was a mere 27 years old, and, even at the time of her death, was one of the most beautiful women you would have ever laid eyes on. She spent much of the last 2-3 years of her life in the hospital, which is a shitty thing for me to reflect on. The last time I saw her alive, I was all of 7 or 8 years old…and she had amnesia at the time, so she didn’t remember me….or my siblings. I can remember talking to her about my brother Travis at the time, who she thought was a duck. Crazy.

Even today, for as many memories from my childhood as my psyche &/or subconscious have repressed—I can clearly remember my father (who was also 27 at the time) pulling me into the bathroom to tell me that mom had died. And I remember being devastated. You’d think that an 8 year old kid couldn’t possibly understand loss to the effect that an ‘adult’ might understand….Well, let me tell you—even at that age, I was devastated to the point of lashing out at the world, in addition to experiencing a deep depression that was untreated, since I refused counseling. I think that, sometimes the young ones get lost in the tragedy of parental loss.

Skip forward to 1998, and me being almost 23—and here we are again, dealing with personal tragedy in the form of my father being killed in a motorcycle accident. Motherfucking fate. My dad’s death hit me so hard, because we had become such close, good friends and confidants in the 2 years preceding his accident. We had many good times….shared in many drinks and many interesting conversations and reflections on life in the face of my mother’s death. My dad had become a close friend to me, which made the loss that much worse. The sting still resonates, even today.

I have my celebratory rituals regarding my folks….I always have a beer (or 8) with my dad on his birthday in May, and on Father’s Day in June. I will admit that I could do better in remembering to buy flowers for the house on Mother’s Day, and to remember the anniversary of my mother’s death. That day is just tough, considering it’s my wife’s, Amy’s birthday, as well.

I’ve always been looked upon as the emotional ‘rock’ in my family. I’ve dealt with tragedy beyond compare, and have weathered situations many people will never have to worry about. While it’s a shitty thing to reflect on, I do realize that these situations have helped mold me into the person I am today. As I get older, I feel less like a rock, and more like a sappy mess. Holidays do not get much easier as time progresses and, at this point in my life—I don’t expect they will get any easier. Being the oldest of 4 kids who lost their parents, as well as 2 half sisters who are the product of my father and his dumb-cunt-of-a-second-wife….I feel an obligation to ensure that my parent’s memories are being well served in our daily meanderings.

I can only hope that we’re making our parents proud in the actions we take, and that we’re justifying their love and hard work in the decisions we make every day that guide our lives and lead us to being the people we are today.

Please give thanks to Virginia Rose and to Lance Rose Sr, for bringing me and my siblings into this world, and for doing a heluva job raising us, in the face of adversity.

Mom….Dad….you did well. And we love you.