“I think about my Father, and Brother every day… and it’s never stopped.”
— Stevie Rachelle
Metal Sludge — No… this is not about music, or rock n’ roll… but it is about me and here it is.
I want this message to reach far and wide… to as many people as possible, and give any parent, any couple, any relationship that have produced Children, to think long and hard before you act.
Your actions as a Parent, playing Judge and Jury, as to what is best for your Kids, might need some extra consideration, especially if you are allowing your personal feelings to enter the equation.
That said, I am referring to ugly break-ups, ugly divorces, and situations that involves your Children.
But remember, they are not just your Children, they are another person’s Children as well.
Making decisions today, while your Kids are young, are decisions that your Kids just might think of differently when they become Adults, and grow up.
Our Father was kept away from us at times during the ugly separation and divorce from our Mother.
And then, unexpected as it was, our Father got Cancer, and died less than 6 months later.
He did so, without his Kids, without us seeing him, and without having any closure.
This is my story, and my words… take it for what it’s worth.
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DEAR DAD,
‘I Miss You Dad and Have Missed You Terribly Growing Up Without You!”
Not looking for an ounce of sympathy here, but felt I needed to share this today.
Today is May 31st 2024, and it marks the 50 Year Anniversary of my Father’s unfortunate exit from life.
Gilbert H. Hanseter died on Friday May 31st 1974 after a grueling and ugly battle with Cancer.
My Father was a smaller man than I am, in the way of height and weight, but on his Death Bed he weighed less than 100 pounds… what a cruel and ugly way to die!
And he did so, without his Children.
It’s even more unfortunate that I cannot say it’s been 50 Years since I saw or talked to my Father.
Matter of fact, I barely remember him at all.
You see, my Parents had a very ugly divorce and for what it’s worth – Father’s Rights were not a thing in the early 70’s – so once the breaking up of the marriage started, he was dealt a very unfair hand.
My Father was no Saint, and while he drank, gambled, and cheated on my Mother… those actions should not have erased him or kept him from being a Father to his Children, but for the most part, that is exactly what happened.
Honestly, I don’t even remember my Father dying, and cannot recall the last time I even saw him.
No I didn’t go to his Funeral either… because as an 8 year old, I didn’t get to make decisions for myself.
I have almost no memories of my Father whatsoever and it’s tore me apart for the last 5 decades living with that.
In truth, I have in total, 3 faint memories of my Father and I.
While none of this is anyone’s business, I will share anyway, as I have nothing to hide and today is as good of a day as any, to honor him.
Memory #1
I was in Kindergarten, so 1971 (?) and my Father was driving me to school. I was in the front seat, no seat belt, he’s smoking a cigarette and takes the corner off of 10th Street onto Georgia, and the door swings open. Sure, I was your typical kid, playing with the door handle, pulled it, and almost fell out as he rounded the corner. But with his right arm, he quickly reached over, grabbed me by my shirt pulled me back in the car and slammed the door shut simultaneously. Then he put his cigarette back in his mouth and kept driving. Typical 70’s Dad, never missing a beat.
Memory #2
My Father had me on a Saturday, and was already separated from my Mother. He took me to his then girlfriend’s apartment. Her name was Bonnie, she was vacuuming while I was playing on the floor and I remember it was winter, but the sun was shining in her living room window. I also remember hearing “I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden” playing on the stereo as I played with my toys.
Memory #3
My Mother is cleaning in the house, and she gives us kids (my sister Cindy and I) a dime and tells us to go to the corner liquor store “Jordy’s Beverage Mart”. The 10 cents was to buy some Penny candies. My best recollection is that we were about 5 & 6 years old as we walked the 2 blocks to get our treat. So, there we were looking at all the candy that cost .01, which we were arguing over what to buy and I recall a few men buying beer and watching us. We bought 10 pieces of candy and were walking home when a red car pulled up alongside of us on the street. A man said: “Here ya go” and handed us a $1.00 bill through the passenger side window of his car. We grabbed the money and raced back to Candy Store and bought a bunch of candy. When we got home we told our Mom, and she asked us to describe the car, and we did. She replied: “That was your Father.”
That is my final memory of my Father.
I can still vividly recall that day, the Candy Store, the car, and the man who gave us that dollar.
But what stands out more than anything to this day, were my Mom’s words; “That was your Father.”
It’s more than 50 years now… and recalling this just destroys me inside when I think about it.
We didn’t even recognize, nor know who are own Father was.
Why?
We didn’t choose that!
Let that sink in for a minute…
While I know I am not alone in this world, many of us have come from broken homes, or situations that as kids, we had no control over but it’s remarkable how it makes me feel, even 50+ years later in life.
People do not forget… and Kids don’t either.
I have even less in the way of photos of my Father and I.
Just ‘1’ photo, that’s it, I have shared it in this post.
I have ‘1’ photo of me sitting on my Father’s knee when I was a baby, and I am not sure there are any more floating around in a relatives shoe-box, but the fact is, this is all I have.
Every time I visit Oshkosh, I got to the Cemetery, and in the far South West corner of that property next to some farm-land sits 3 Grave Stones… 1 for my Brother, 1 for my Father, and 1 for my Grandma and Grandpa Hanseter.
They sit all in a row, and I stand there and think… “What if they had lived”… or lived a bit longer or what if this happened or that took place, but there are no “What ifs” in Death, its permanent, final and forever.
I will never get those final days, or moments back!
My Grandpa Hanseter lived 49 years and sadly he passed on before I was even born.
My Father lived 38 years and my Brother lived 19 years.
If you add 38 + 19, you get 57.
I am 58, and I have now lived more life than both of them combined!
I have also often posted and wrote “Me, Myself & I” when sitting at a coffee shop at 6:00am by myself, and that is me living for all 3 of us!
I am not done yet, and will continue to live, to travel and live life… for me, myself and I… which when I say that, it’s actually me adding my Father and Brother into my world.
I have said it before, “I am living for all 3 of us!”
They didn’t get to see or travel the world like I have and every step I take, every minute I breath, they are in my heart and in my mind….
Including today.
I think about my Father, and Brother every day… and it’s never stopped.
Today is more of the same…
Thank you for reading.
Stevie
TUFF DIARIES Entries #1– #21…. #22 through #25 coming soon…..
My Brother’s Story > SO MANY SEASONS … “What If… 42 Years Later” a True Story of Tragedy and Triumph
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