One Saturday

My sister’s father died today.

The words look crazy as I type them. Do they sound crazy? You read right, my sister’s father died today. I remember when we were kids and even now as adults, to say to anyone, “my sister’s father”, I always got the look. What is so difficult? I always would explain, shamelessly, of course. David Dangerfield was nothing to hide. He was a wonderful man, a cool Dad, a perfect Grandpa (Papa D).

Our mother is a beautiful woman, this was never a secret. First there was my Dad, Kevin, then Vina’s Dad, David and finally Vance and Frances’s Dad, Big Vance. I figure we were lucky kids. David always made me feel like I was no different from Vina or Charisse (yes, my sister’s sister!). He was a firefighter. What kid would not want their Dad to be a firefighter? Every Christmas, they had a big party at the firehouse. It was the same thing every year, great food and music. The best part was when Santa came down the pole with gifts for all the kids. David always made sure there was a present for me. He would introduce me as his daughter, never his daughter’s sister. I never felt like he didn’t love me.

He was interested in my grades, in my life, and he made sure to ask me how I was. Most recently, he was on Facebook, right along with me and my other FB friends commenting on Hell’s Kitchen. He recently celebrated his wife’s birthday. David was so proud of his sons-all athletes; I think…definitely football that I know for sure. He had great daughters, fun, happy grandkids. TJ, David, Jordan, Jared, Charisse, Vina and Shanelle will miss their Dad. I don’t know how they must feel. Losing a parent just doesn’t make any sense. I’m a mom and I don’t want to see anything happen to my children, but I don’t want them to be left to mourn me either. I don’t know how my sister is handling the loss of her Daddy.

I don’t know. I feel like the loss of your parent is like losing half of yourself. Isn’t that odd? A parent can have many children, but a child can only have one parent. I’m so, so, so, so sorry that my sister has lost her father. I don’t know what to say to her to ease her suffering.

I sit here mourning the end of a man who was proud to introduce me as his daughter. You know, now that I think of it, he never explained where I came from or anything. He would just tell people, this is Christina, my daughter. While I did not lose my Daddy today, I mourn for David. He was and always will be a father to me. I was so impressed when I saw him on Facebook, all proud in family photos. I cannot believe he is gone. I am not trying to understand the pain my sister, his children and his wife must be feeling now. I don’t know how they are going to explain this loss to the grandkids. I can’t even understand it myself.

My kids just came in and noticed that I am crying. They are upset, because I won’t share with them. I told them that I am ok, that I am blogging and feeling emotional. Since I need them to sleep, I promised to tell them in the morning. The night should give me time to process so that I can explain this to them in the morning. I don’t know how I will express it with strength and clarity, but I will. That is what a parent does.

Today a wife lost her husband. Today my sister lost her father. Today, seven children lost their father. Today a handful of grands lost their Papa D.

Today I go to bed with the sharp knowledge that I am blessed to still have my mother and my father, but with the incredible realization that I lost a parent.

Rest in peace David Dangerfield.
You are loved.
You are missed.
Thank you for everything.