January 24, 2007

Seven years?

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

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7?

No way, that’s too long. Way too long to have not seen my friend, my dad.

It feels like forever and yesterday in the same gut wrenching ache that I’ve gotten used to feeling when I think of you, which is always. Always. Sometimes I think you are haunting me. I think about you every day, several times a day. You are in my blood. And to have gone seven years of not seeing you, with no reward or time out for how well I’ve dealt with it, or tried to. Just more pain, more years of not being able to hang with my best friend. More silent jokes that don’t receive your wise ass comments back, more Mondays without you to talk to.

I hate this date. Today is when everything changed for me but stayed the same for so many others. You and my mom had warned me that was how it would feel, it’s how you felt when you two lost Serina. Serina. I hope you’ve gotten to see her again. I hope that if you can’t be with this daughter that you’re with your other, my sister. It’s only fair I guess, she only had three years with you, I had 17. Man, I was so young, so confused. I wish I could go back and hug that version of myself. Hell, if i'm wishing I wish my father was still alive and healthy.

I can still remember finding out. I was supposed to see you that day, after school. We probably would have went to Sams and the Chinese Buffet. I cried at lunch thinking about if you died, even before I knew anything. A premonition? I’ve always found that weird…and magical. How did I always know you would never live to see me graduate? How did I know I would find out almost the exact same way I had thought of? Why did I cry at lunch? Were you giving me a heads up some how?

Thankfully, in terms of grief, the last five months haven’t been as bad as the prior six years and seven months without you. Maybe I’m getting used to it? I hope not, I don’t want to forget. Well, forgetting the pain would be nice, but I’d never forget all our memories. I know that. There are too many. I am you.

I met someone. Someone special and I’ll always regret that you couldn’t have met. His humor reminds me of yours and in that sense it feels like you’ve been around somehow these last five months. I try to tell him and everyone who hasn’t met you, who you are. I tell stories of us. I even imitate your voice when I say your parts. Ha, I can almost see your head shake at the idea.

I love you dad. I love you for teaching me so much even through your mistakes. I love that you got me. I love that I could go to you about shit.

I’m sorry you had so many hard times. I’m sorry you couldn’t be here now for the good. I’m sorry.

I’ll continue to make you proud dad. You’ll always be with me, you’re apart of me. I am you.

Christina from Grey's Anatomy: "There's a club. The dead dad's club and you can't be in it until you're in it. You can try to understand, you can sympathize, but until you feel that loss. My dad died when I was nine. George, I'm really sorry you had to join the club."

George: "I don't know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn't."

Christina: "Yeah, that never really changes."

PS: The Art of Making Pizza With My Dad  Don't worry, this post is more upbeat.

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