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Lee, this is Life

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Tnerb

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The following is very personal and close to my heart. It's also sad. I needed to vent and I chose to do so where I feel most comfortable. This isn't about comic books.

 

045772324I've been a private person. I got this from my father. When I started to collect CGC graded comic books I wrote about them in the journals over the years. As I wrote I opened up. I not only told you of my efforts to complete a New Mutants set in a 9.8, not only did I talk repetitiously about my ASM 129, but I also wrote about my life in general. Last year I closed up again. I stopped writing. One might assume that CBCS might be the cause, that I switched sides. This has nothing to do with The newest grading company coming on to the scene and although I have a few, the reason for my seclusion was deeper. Married life changes a person and as I adapted (and still am adapting) I became closer to being like my father. My father cared for his wife, she wasn't his first, but she was his best. They married back in 78' when I had a handful of comic books to my name. I owe her a lot. My father cared for his kids, it didn't matter if they were his or hers. He loved us all the same, equally. Then it was his grand kids. He cherished them, but only after they became potty trained. I read him my journals after I wrote them. At least 500 made their way to his ears before they made it to your eyes. Each one made me feel elated as he smiled or laughed and he told me they were good. The positive praise was much better than when he told my 12 year old self I sucked at singing and I should quit now. I returned the favor by teasing him well into my adult life by showing him the comic book he refused to buy me for $300 when I was 16, and currently sells for $20k-$25k. This netted me the credit card whenever I wanted it. I just had to pay him back. That was fair, but he was always a fair man. Over 44 years I angered him, made him sad, made him happy, had him cry, had him scared, had him jubilant, victorious, and defeated. Never in games. His record stands at 1-0 in a single game of Monopoly. And many of those things, if not all those things, he never told me. What he did tell me over the years from the first time he held me until he could tell me no more was "I love you". And for a good ten to fifteen years straight after every phone call he would tell me he was proud of me. After every phone call I hung up smiling. This man never understood why I collected comic books. He never understood the search, but as I took him to a few conventions with my son he was just happy to be there. I can go on, and I want to go on because there are so many more things I want to say. So many memories I want to share, but the result is the same, I type in tears. I'll have no more memories. My father was battling cancer. In the beginning he told no one. Finally he succumbed and no longer kept it secret. I can here my step-mothers voice calling his name telling him to tell her. Then months later it was our turn, but only when it was too late. My father never wanted to burden us (his kids) with his problems, its the way he was. Finally my step-brother, sister, and I knew. My father got weaker. On April 5th 2016, he was the weakest I've ever seen him. As I left his place he simply told me, "Lee, this is life". I simply replied "I know" while inside me was crying like a lil kid and I thought "this is the part". The next day he was in the hospital. He did get to go home but was back in the same hospital for the same reason a few days after that. There was too much fluid in his lungs and the cancer that was originally in his skin and bones that narrowly missed his pancreas was attacking what gave him breath. Finally on the 12th of May he was moved to hospice and when I started that day at work I realized the worse thing, he was never coming home. They gave him the option to go through chemo, since the other options, that had huge success ratios with others, simply did nothing for my father. The chemo option, the last option, had just a good a chance to kill him than to save him. My father is a smart man, smarter than I ever gave him credit for, he knew the odds were not in his favor. He told the doctors, it's ok. They did their best and it's time for him to move on. I keep visiting, my optimism thinking that somehow, someway, some miracle will prevail, while the other side of me, just wants his daddy back. The tears flow again. I've been blessed more so for knowing this man, because with one simple twist of fate, I could have missed having the greatest father I ever could have. One more time dad. I love you. Thanks for readingLeePs. This man. This great man was still with me as I wrote this and I wonder do I show him this and read it to him, or do I just let him hear it in the hereafter. Maybe, he will hear you read it out loud.17453.thumb.jpeg.1054b2d0db09cbb05ccb6ce7b72356ca.jpegTo see old comments for this Journal entry, click here. New comments can be added below.

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