WE STILL LIVE IN the house and to this day, we notice the missing element of Gina. In the months following Gina’s death, my family kept checking in on us but they gradually stepped back. Everyone but my mother—she stayed on my ass. To be quite honest, in a weird way she probably drove me to do my own thing more than anyone. I reacted like a teenager, but she made me so defiant that I began to stand on my two feet again.
If I was smart, I would have embraced her help. I might have told her to phrase things differently or back off a bit as she was driving me crazy, but I would have embraced it.
It did bother me that the visitors stopped coming, even my mom. That pissed me off and I resented the fact that nobody would pop in on us. I know that sounds ironic but I think it’s got more to do with the girls than me. They didn’t give me any reason to think that, so it’s quite possible that I was just projecting my own insecurities onto them, but I think subconsciously the girls felt abandoned. I know I did. The girls were rebounding from what might be the hardest thing they will ever go through in their life, and they were doing it with the help of each other and Nona. I won’t even give myself any credit because at that point, I was too busy being a selfish ass. During this period, however, my girls grew very tight with each other. Not just as sisters, but on all levels. They became true friends and really learned how to lean on each other, which I’m sure will follow them through the rest of their lives. Yes, they grew up in a hurry and they lost a big chunk of their innocence through this, but they have each other’s back like you wouldn’t believe. God help the person who ever hurts either one of them, because if you take on one, you take on two.
As spring rolled on and summer arrived, I found myself trying not to talk about Gina with the kids. I thought it best if we kept the memories in our head but focused on the future and moving on. That was another huge mistake on my part and I imagine had I been in therapy, I would have realized this. At the time, I thought Jackie was getting what she needed through her counselor, and while Amber didn’t talk much about her mom, I took that as her handling it well, when it was really her suppressing it. As for Jackson, he and I couldn’t be farther apart by this point. He rode me continually about my lack of faith and my drinking, so I didn’t want anything to do with him. I know that’s not the right way to approach things but again, I was so self-absorbed at this point that I made all the wrong decisions.
I should point out that it’s not that I wouldn’t talk about Gina to the girls. If they wanted to talk about her I would, I just never pushed the conversation along. I would answer their questions and then change the subject. It would take me years to realize that by me ignoring this, it was putting a communicative wall up between us. It was driving a wedge. It was ironic; I, the excessive communicator, was doing exactly to my girls what I always bitched about Gina doing to me.
I think the main problem was while I was trying to get used to my new role of being the clearinghouse for everything, I wasn’t. I had a hard time connecting with the fact that I wasn’t just the fun Dad anymore who got to enjoy my family. Now I had increased roles and responsibilities and had to be the one who ran everything. I had to be the guy who juggled the finances, got everyone to and from and attended all their games, handed out the groundings, delivered the hugs, ensured dinners were taken care of, lunch money was had, holiday decorations were hung, and a million other things on top of these.
The funeral home had given me some pamphlets on grief and so did the hospice people. They must have put me on some sort of mailing list because I repeatedly got a lot of very helpful information in newsletters and things of the sort. I didn’t buy any books or anything, which I really wish I would have. To be honest, that’s the main reason for this book now. After all, it’s easier to spot a dick in the room when that dick isn’t you.
Even to this point, the girls would often come sleep in my bed. Part of it was because they felt bad for me to be alone (I know because they would tell me), but I think the other part of it was that they really just wanted to sleep in their mommy’s bed. That comforted them. We would lay in there and talk about Mommy and the tears would always flow, from both them and me. I worried sometimes maybe we should be moving past this, but I always let it go. They were adjusting well in school and their grades were good. I thought those were the telltale signs of whether or not they were doing okay, so I figured this was probably a good thing for them to adjust. To be completely honest, I liked having the girls there at night. It really sucked sleeping alone. Having not gone to counseling or anything, there were a lot of times where I would go in that room or lie in that bed and the tears would just come running. Having the girls in there helped soothe that for me.