brittany nicole

So most of you know that my birth father passed away last month unexpectedly. That day of events is on replay in my head sometimes. Not sure if that’s because we weren’t as close as I would have liked to be or if it’s because I’m still processing that he’s no longer here and we’ll never be able to “get it right”.

I cried the day I received the news on July 13. I was overwhelmed that day with so many emotions. I actually couldn’t stop crying at first, even though I tried.

I didn’t cry anymore after that until this week. Not at his wake. Not at his graveside service. Not a day after he passed was I able to form any tears.

I wanted to feel something. But I struggled to do so.

I felt numb the week of his death. I felt even more numb the week of his funeral.

Why is it that I wanted to feel something so bad, but I couldn’t…

It was because something else was bothering me. So much so that I was distracted.

The day that he passed away, I wanted to see his son. I wanted to love on him and remind him of how much our dad loved him and truly enjoyed being there to support him in all that he was involved with.

Because my relationship with my father was on and off, my relationship with my brother didn’t have a solid foundation either. I’ve always felt like that because my dad missed the mark with me, he never missed the mark with his son. He was super dad. Super involved. Super present.

I immediately thought about how he now has to grow up without his father in the picture, just like I did. Even though the circumstances were very different. Simply because their bond was everything and then some.

So I notified his mother (my father’s wife) that I’d be hitting the road. Keep in mind that she is the one who reached out to inform me that he passed away. She was so sympathetic and caring over the phone. Which gave me even more peace about making the trip. So I drove to Birmingham from Florence. 2 hour drive with my sister and my mother.

About an hour out, I called my father’s wife to inform her of my location and to check in, of course. We the arrive to the hospital that my father passed at and reached back out again. I could tell that there was more “family” on my dad’s side in the background. It sounded as if her responses were being told to her in the background.

This is when I noticed there was a shift in energy. I started feeling as if though we were being given the run around. My mother and I both felt this way. My sister didn’t though. She stated that we were probably both just hungry and on edge. This wasn’t like her at all to be the calm one. That’s normally me. So because it sounded off coming from her, I took her advice.

We went to one of my favorite restaurants in Birmingham, Village Tavern. I love this place. We were there for an extended period of time. At this point, we were waiting for a text/call about which address we should come to.

The food was good. And the conversation was centered around my mom and sister implying that the server and I were flirting. I don’t even know how to do that kind of thing anymore. I will say that he was cute tho. Anywho, it was a good distraction for me since I kept looking down at my phone to make sure that I hadn’t missed a notification.

Nothing came during dinner. No call. No text.

Why would they say they were going to reach out and not do it? Why would they have us drive 2 hours just to stand us up? Why lie to us on today of all days?

None of it made sense. As we were preparing to leave the restaurant, a call came through…

Except I didn’t have this number saved. It was from a lady who I had never met. A lady who didn’t know me either. She was the sister of my father’s wife and stated that she was instructed to call and tell me that today wasn’t a good day to meet up. She stated that if any details needed to be shared, she would call me…

And the tone that she used implied for me not to call them again, they would call me…

That hurt me.

It hurt that I was being ignored by a family who hasn’t done anything for me ever, and they didn’t even see fit to return my call.

The family in the background was my father’s sister and her husband. Who also didn’t deem it necessary to follow back up.

So yes. We made that trip for absolutely nothing. And from that point on, I stopped feeling anything. I knew that if I expected more from them, I was going to end up hurt in the end.

So maybe the numbness saved me from getting hurt more, but the numbness didn’t remove the hurt that I was already feeling.

Day 2. Day 3. Day 4. Day 5. Day 6…

I received a notification from the “sister” again, and the copy and paste message started off with…

“here is what I want you to say when you contact Brittany…”

Day 7…

I wake up to a message asking if I forgot to send the spelling of names for the Obituary, and that I had a limited amount of time before it was too late and they were going to be sent for printing…

I responded to the “copy and paste” message with all of that information requested and a thank you for the updates. She responded with “You’re welcomed darling.”

So I screenshot the message that I sent with all of the information requested with her response included and she stated that she didn’t get it yesterday but would pass it along. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still nothing from my dad’s side of the family at this point.

That hurt too.

There’s so much more to share but I’ll leave that out for now and share in part II. Here’s why I share this side of my story with you. Most people look at me and see how “strong” I am. You see how “kind” I am. You see how “inspirational” I am. I want you to also see that I’m human. I have feelings. My heart gets broken too. I don’t always get treated with respect. My kindness is often mistaken for a sign of weakness. And that the inspiration that I share stems from truth, even if it’s the ugly version.

Own your truth (there’s freedom in doing so).

Share your pain (when you’re ready).

Stop hiding behind your story (that filter you apply daily isn’t a good look for you).

Life happens to me too. Nothing about my life is perfect.

I always hope and pray that my words don’t mask the imperfections and flaws of who I really am.

And just maybe this gives new meaning to the part of my prayer where I say “Lord, protect me from dangers seen and unseen.”

I just wish I could see this one. Because otherwise I’ll never fully be able to understand why.

I’ll end with this for now though…

Love hard. Forgive harder.