Just Rambling...

I am waiting for a delivery today so I am stuck in the house or at least around the house...so I figured what a great time to tell the tale of "Two Fathers and One Dad".

My mother filed for a divorce when I was 7 and my sister was 6. She divorced the man that gave me my genes and very little else. He was an alcoholic with a nasty temper and thats about all that I remember about him...aside from two incidents that seem to define him in my mind. The first being, him standing over me and my mom and my little sister, screaming at us and then walking away while swallowing the last drop of alcohol from the bottle in his hand and then turning and throwing the empty bottle at all three of us...not a horrible memory but not a memory I would choose to leave my children with. The second incident...me and my sister and my mom returning home to a front door that was left wide open, blood all over the door handle and smeared all over the door, blood every where on every surface and dripped all over the floor, a huge picture window completely smashed with glass laying every where, apparently my father could not find his key and he was in such a rush to find money for more alcohol that he decided to jump through the huge window in the living room leaving shattered glass and blood all over the floor, he smashed my Mickey Mouse piggy bank and stold all of my money leaving broken Mickey and blood all over my bed and blankets and then he did the same to my sisters Donald Duck piggy bank. A very loving man with so very much to offer...that would not describe my blood father. I would not say that I am bitter toward him or that I have been horribly damaged by him,I do not think that I need to lay on a couch and spend hundreds of dollars to work through my brief life with him, I have very few memories of him. He barely exists for me except for a few fleeting moments when I wish he had been something more then what he was.
My mother filed for divorce again when I was 14 and my sister was 13. She divorced the man that gave me my love of gardening and nature and the obsessive drive to finish what I have started (unfortunatly more often then not I am left with the feeling of complete failure because of this trait, my own mental deficency, he is not to blame). His favorite saying "If your going to do it half~assed, don't even start it at all". I have a million wonderful memories of this man ,he was a great listener and he was strong and hard working and humble. He could make me laugh until I felt like I was gonna pee my pants. He taught me so many things and I loved him completely, but he didn't love my mother and he stayed far longer then he should have.
Both of these men were my fathers. But neither one was ever my Dad. There has only been one constant man in my life that could even come close to deserving that title. His name was Leo,he was my grandpa. He was there when I was born, he was there when I took my first steps, he laughed when I laughed, he cried when he saw my tears, he listened to my teenage troubles and walked with me through my adult fears. He smiled with his eyes and loved with his whole heart and I am so thankful that he was in my life,he passed away when Emily was 2. I still feel him with me every day and if I close my eyes I can still see his smile...he gave me the security and the faith to realize that not all men leave...