POTD and Thoughts - Feb 19

I have concluded that I really love this picture. Maybe it is the bear smiling. Maybe it is me not looking in distress. Funny as it may sound, it is like two buddies that are meant to be together. There is a lot being said here even though I don't know the words. I'm happy in this moment, I feel good about myself, I just bought a big teddy bear and felt no guilt or shame. This is the first picture with me where my first thoughts were no about my physical appearance - how much weight I have put on again, and such. I do look tired though, and even with that, there seems to be a piece of "everything is going to be ok." I say, "this is my friend 'Cuddles the Bear'" and he says, "this is my friend 'Blewy'".

Bonnie and Clyde were up to their adventures - like crossing the road without looking both ways first.

Tina, Ann, and I went for a walk before I left work. We came across a dead squirrel. I took a photo. Then I picked it up because I was going to take a selfie. Tina flipped out and I was too busy laughing to take a photo.

After I dropped Hunter off, I went out to visit pops. It has been a while since I have been there. I cannot believe how many stones there are now in his section. As well, I can't believe it is coming up on 8 years.

March is a tough month for me. Too many deaths in March. Too many memories of tough things happening in March.

I sat out at the cemetery for a while - there is a bench near Pop's section. I thought about how many things I learned to believe based on the opinion of others. Maybe that is typical for kids. You learn to like or not like people, things, places, events, because someone is telling you that is the way it is. I wonder how much I missed out on things - experiencing people, places, events, because I was just following the pattern. I am going to say that I am probably right when I say that one does not realize it is happening. We all have people we trust in life to teach and guide us in the correct direction. With nothing to compare it to and not enough knowledge to question it, we accept it as truth or the way it is supposed to be.

Pops was always made out to be the bad guy. Now, I was not around to know if things were actually fact or embellished. I know I raised with a knowledge of the man who was my father, that was never hidden. I never had to experience finding out I was not genetically a Blew. And for the record, I am not "just" a Force or "just" a Blew - I am both.

This was the man who was wonderful and then went into the service and came home mean and abusive...an alcoholic and with addiction problems. In a discussion during the time the divorce was happening, he asked that if he gave up his parental rights would he have to pay child support. I was told that his "things" were more important than his family and children. And much more.

I was told of how I went from "daddy" and "daddy Beanie" (Beanie was my dad's nickname) to "daddy" and "daddy Keith" in a very quick space of time. I was young, I have no remembrance of this. It always was "dad" and "Keith". When I was an older teenager, it became "my dad" (Beanie) and "my father" (Keith) as if a distinctive difference existed between the two terms. Seeing dad had been gone for close to 10 years at that point, it had nothing to do with nurturing. "Dad" was the guy whose name I had, and "Father" was the guy whose genetics I had.

I loved the 10 years I had to get to know Keith. He became "Pops" and went from being this almost fictional character to a real person. Oh yes, I am very aware that things could have been very different, and I was aware of the depth of my relationship - always being told "don't get to too close, you will only get hurt." I heard another side of a lot of the stories I grew up with. It was a bit confusing as it put all I had learned into a questionable situation. Truth is, I didn't really care what the stories were at that point, I knew I would never know what the actual truth was.

What I did know is that each year I had a chance to visit and communication during other times, connecting with a piece of my family, a piece of myself that I had not experienced for well over 20 years. It was nice. I was very thankful that I had those last 10 years of his life to build a new relationship.

When he passed, my Aunt Carla did not know what to do with his ashes. It was an honor to facilitate the things that needed done to have him buried at the National Cemetery. He was buried with military honors. I was the one who stood and spoke about him, the relationship we had built, the honor I had for a father I only recently got to know. I spoke to Jordan about his Grandpa Keith who he had gotten to meet just a few years before - the early birthday part that was thrown for him where we ate the cake before the meal.

I made the box for his ashes. On the top, a US Navy medallion. Inside, photos of myself, Joe, Jordan, and Brody. Pop would have his children and grandchildren with him always. I truly believe him to be a good man. I do not know if he ever thought of us through the years or missed us, I would like to think that he did. The man I got to know meant well. He had issues, a lot of issues. Some through consequences of actions, some genetically (thanks Pops). And, seeing that who we are and what we do are different things, I have no negative thoughts or reactions standing and saying that Pops was a good man.