September 27 2008
Any AFL fan knows what that day was - the day Hawthorn won the AFL premiership and Shane Crawford retired, after finally being in a team that has won the flag. But no one here knows what else happened that day. No one except me and my family. My Pop passed away. I still havent gotten over it, even if I don't still cry about it. I'm going to tell you guys about that day, because I think it might help me get over it.
I was euphoric that day. Sure, Pop was in hospital, Dad was living in Perth because of DCfuckingP, but Hawthorn finally made it to the AFL Grand Final! I sat there in my Hawks towel watching the gamer fearfully, hoping that Crawf would get the flag, and retire in the best way possible. The game was so scary, I thought the Cats would win. I knew it was all over in the last two minutes though. There was no way the Cats would win this one! The final score was Hawthorn 115 Cats 89. I think I almost screetched the place down. I had to call Mum and Dad and tell them.
When Mum answered the phone, she sounded a bit weird but I thought nothing of it. I was so happy all the afternoon, I didn't even care that I was in the middle of Perth and stuck at home. I wanted to be here, to be happy about it, and I was. About two hours after the game was over, Mum and Dad came back. Dad sat on the lounge, looked at me and said, 'Pop died.' I couldn't believe that he was gone. I knew it would happen soon. I knew he would die soon. He'd been getting worse for about a year then, and I was expecting it. But not that day. Dad told me that he laid there and watched the footy, and about five minutes after the game finished. That was when it hit. I left the room quietly, went to the bedroom and cried. I cried for about ten minutes, then I came out. I didn't know what else to do.
We left for Northam a day later, and at church that Sunday I cried. I didn't care that I was sitting down while everyone was singing How Deep The Fathers Love For Us. I didn't feel loved by God. I felt like he made my Pop suffer. I felt like he didn't give a damn. After church, I went to my best friends Mum, and we talked for about half an hour. I cried even harder then, because she kept telling me that God loved me, that he loved my Pop, that he took the pain away.
I went home and wrote a song about it, called simply, 'Song For Pop'. That was all I could call it. It summed up everything that I felt for him, how much I loved him, and if I could do it all again, I would have done it better. I would have listened to him, I would have learned from him. I would have hugged him when he saw me, I would have been better to him that I was.
I don't think that this has completely fixed the pain, but it's helped. Thanks for listening guys.
I was euphoric that day. Sure, Pop was in hospital, Dad was living in Perth because of DCfuckingP, but Hawthorn finally made it to the AFL Grand Final! I sat there in my Hawks towel watching the gamer fearfully, hoping that Crawf would get the flag, and retire in the best way possible. The game was so scary, I thought the Cats would win. I knew it was all over in the last two minutes though. There was no way the Cats would win this one! The final score was Hawthorn 115 Cats 89. I think I almost screetched the place down. I had to call Mum and Dad and tell them.
When Mum answered the phone, she sounded a bit weird but I thought nothing of it. I was so happy all the afternoon, I didn't even care that I was in the middle of Perth and stuck at home. I wanted to be here, to be happy about it, and I was. About two hours after the game was over, Mum and Dad came back. Dad sat on the lounge, looked at me and said, 'Pop died.' I couldn't believe that he was gone. I knew it would happen soon. I knew he would die soon. He'd been getting worse for about a year then, and I was expecting it. But not that day. Dad told me that he laid there and watched the footy, and about five minutes after the game finished. That was when it hit. I left the room quietly, went to the bedroom and cried. I cried for about ten minutes, then I came out. I didn't know what else to do.
We left for Northam a day later, and at church that Sunday I cried. I didn't care that I was sitting down while everyone was singing How Deep The Fathers Love For Us. I didn't feel loved by God. I felt like he made my Pop suffer. I felt like he didn't give a damn. After church, I went to my best friends Mum, and we talked for about half an hour. I cried even harder then, because she kept telling me that God loved me, that he loved my Pop, that he took the pain away.
I went home and wrote a song about it, called simply, 'Song For Pop'. That was all I could call it. It summed up everything that I felt for him, how much I loved him, and if I could do it all again, I would have done it better. I would have listened to him, I would have learned from him. I would have hugged him when he saw me, I would have been better to him that I was.
I don't think that this has completely fixed the pain, but it's helped. Thanks for listening guys.
