I have just passed the fifteenth anniversary of my stepfather's death and will soon become Father's Day. So John Albert Hansbrough is in my mind. He died in the spring of 2000 at the age of 81. When he married my mother, he was only 49 years old. I like to think that John and I have grown up together in many ways. When I first saw him, I was 21 years old and recovered from the difficult years when my parents ended. marriage. I am not ready, or mature enough to give up my pain, for this loud, big [6 inches, 4 inches, about 240 pounds] outgoing braggadocio businessman to make room in my life.
My mother was moved all her life because she must always rely on others. As long as her needs are met, my mother is charming and happy. In John they are. I don't like him because he is different from my father. His father is small, knowledgeable, indifferent, quiet, and management, not bald. [Is my mother completely discriminating her taste for men? - She Do you need a unique standard relationship?]; I hate him because he is a mother of my mother who wants to be able to keep her child. In short, it is difficult to see that my mother is willing to take care of her when I have never taken care of me in the way I think I need it. The more I study John's violation of my life, the more he becomes louder and more unscrupulous. My visit to their home was a test of my patience and tolerance, most of which my and my smart mouths failed.
Until a visit, when I made my mother become the target of all my unprocessed anger. We had a terrible battle - or I had a terrible battle with her. Regarding what, I was accused of mentioning that it was such a trivial teenager. When you are full of my toxicity at the time, it does not cause too much pollution. She used her strategy of retreating behind the closed bedroom door, letting me yell and irritate in the living room, and John sat quietly in his favorite armchair. He got up; came to me, snoring and sobbing in frustrated despair; with my huge arms, whispered: "You don't know how much your mother loves you." Then, I collapsed, he took me Drag onto his chair and hold me when I need to cry.
Over the years, he has endured my nonsense, still loves me, and provides what I need at the right time. More notably, John never had his own child, but he instinctively knew how to be a parent at that moment. My mother, my discerning mother! Because he loves and kindly loves him. John Albert Hansbrough became my true father when I gave my long-cherished love of my parents. He returned my mother to me.
Since then, John and I are very close and are good friends. Simply put, I admire him very much. He taught me everything about love, responsibility and relationships. I did my best to support him to take care of my mother because she refused to get sick and disabled because of her passive and boring helplessness. He was ahead of her and was exhausted on himself, but in the end he was a caretaker.
When I struggled for his sorrow, a female friend shared everything she did after her father died. She said to look for an animal's jewel charm, its characteristics remind me of my expectations of him, put it on the chain and put it on my neck - he will be with me, I may realize His example.
I chose an image of a human elk, a stylized warrior, standing upright and arms out. John's image: big, strong, fearless, open. About a year after John died, I have been wearing it all the time, and my friend is right. It helps. This is still the case when I need him to be with me. I said, "You don't know how much your daughter misses you."
Orignal From: You have no idea: in mourning
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