10. Visit Vegas For a Weekend Like a Normal Person

It has been a while since I attributed anything to this blog. The past week has been a large abundance of hell rolled into a big old ball of crap. :) Good times. I'll leave it at that.

10. Visit Vegas For a Weekend Like a Normal Person- is the topic for today. I find it harder than I thought to write about this part of my life. Partly because I feel foolish for still feeling this way and partly because no matter how many years go by, it still hurts more than I could ever express in words.

My parents got divorced when I was only a year old, and my father and his side of the family moved to Vegas. I spent most of my summer vacations in Vegas and some holidays as well. Because of this fact, Vegas has always been different to me. Like a second home. When I drive down the strip it reminds me of things we did there when I was a child. My dad taking me to Circus Circus and winning a ridiculous amount of stuffed animals to fill my suitcase- stuffed animals I wish with every bone inside my body I still owned, trips with Gram, Aunt Mick and cousin Meg to The Mirage to have breakfast or lunch with Auntie Sherrie who worked there, watching the then kid-friendly pirate boat show at Treasure Island with cousin Matt perched atop Uncle Kev's shoulders, doing the roller coaster at New York New York, or Santa pictures with my sisters at the Excalibur. It is an entirely different city to me. Even more so because since my grandpa and dad passed away, it isn't the same.

I remember the first time my friend Ami took me to the boats in East Chicago. I was probably about 22-23. I had never been. It was overwhelming. I walked in and suddenly that sound- the dinging of the machines, the smell off cigarette smoke and money, the change hitting the slot machines. It made me sick to my stomach. I was caught off guard and it literally brought tears to my eyes and a pain in the bottom of my gut. Who would have ever thought THAT sensation would remind me so much of those two men? My grandpa passed away my senior year in high school, and my dad in August of 2000. I was never old enough to gamble when I visited, but in Vegas you do things in casinos regardless of your age. Hearing that noise made me think of getting off the plane and seeing my dad's smiling face waiting for me, the colors and the smells reminded me of holding his hand as he walked with me through any number of casinos to reach a restaurant or a show.

When I went to Vegas for my dad's funeral, my fiance at the time and I stayed at The Imperial Palace- a hotel that since I have been back pains me to look at, walk past, or be in the general vicinity of. I have since realized I will not ever be able to step foot in that place again. Not that that is a bad thing- if you've been there you know why. Skank-y! I remember very scattered bits and pieces of that time period I was there. I remember seeing my Aunt Mick and Uncle Kevin when I arrived- for all intense purposes they are my second mother and father and have been so wonderful to me. I remember seeing Kayla and Cecily- who had grown up so much in the 3-4 years I hadn't seen them. Walking through the house that my dad rented for him and my sisters- I had never seen that house before, and I can still remember how everything was placed inside, like I had lived there all my life. I remember parts of the wake more so than anything else. As long as I live, I will never ever shake the site of my then 8 and 10 year old sisters crying- nor can I ever shake the feeling I had when it was time to go. Leaving him there was not an option. I couldn't leave my dad in this room and just go. My fiance had to pry me away from my dad and carry me out.

That night we walked down the strip. It was the first time I had been to Vegas since The Bellagio was built. The light/water show came on and it was indescribable. Not because of the beauty, but because I felt like I was the only person there. Everything around me was silent besides the music and the fountain. The song the show happened to be choreographed to was one I had never heard before- but it was beautiful. "Con Te Partiro" by Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion. I had no idea what the song meant at the time- but it was gorgeous. For the first time in a week, I finally felt safe again. I have heard that song a couple times since then, and every time it brings tears to my eyes and the feelings from that evening of my father's funeral always immediately come rushing back to me.. Years later, I found out that the song translates to "time to say goodbye." Some may say that is ironic, I call it a sign. My father, for whatever reason, was watching over me at that moment. That was our goodbye. I don't care what any skeptic says. That's my moment and it won't ever be ruined.

I've been back to Vegas twice since his death. Once over Christmas, when I did not see the strip at all, and once this last Christmas with Steve. My sisters, Steve and I visited the place where my father and grandfather are buried next to each other. I needed that, I think my sisters did too. And, my father. I know he is looking down on us full of pride. This last time I was there, Steve and I stayed on the strip only one night- the rest of time with my family. I found it hard to believe how much it still to this day fills me with sadness. While Steve played poker, I visited The Bellagio again, with high hopes that my dad was with me again, that our song would play. Despite my hopes, it didn't play.

This brings me to #10 on my list. I think it is very clear why this is so important to me. I want to be able to visit Vegas, like a normal person, and not have all these feelings overwhelm me. I know it is okay to have some of them, but not in such an overabundance. I feel it is necessary for me to go there- spend time alone on the strip- and make up with some past demons I have there. Steve and I are going the weekend of August 29th- his birthday and he will play poker most of the trip I am sure. Which leaves me ample time to visit these places of the past and put some of it to rest and come to terms with the rest. I still catch myself in off times thinking- "I'm gonna see dad and grandpa" then it hits me like a lead balloon- that isn't possible. I want that gone. Or at least attempt it to go away.
It was 8 years yesterday- August 5th- and it still feels like yesterday.