And, here we go again.
Another year. Another 365 days since the last time I reflected on the anniversary of his death which is now marking six years.
What people who haven't lost anyone close to them don't really understand is that the anniversary of a death is a day that is more "out for all to see" but I think of my dad every single day. Some days there is laughter. Some days there are memories. Some days I just like saying "mom and dad" or "my parents" because I don't say that anymore. Some days I cry. Some days I am pissed. Some days I can't believe he is gone for good. Some days I am beyond sad and depressed. Some days I shake my head because he is missing out on so much of our lives. Some days I try to keep the memory that he was actually IN our lives alive. Some days I push back the guilt. Some days I cry over how the chips fell. Sure, I function and we move on and we LIVE our LIVES but his absence is ALWAYS THERE. Sitting dormant sometimes, but always there.
I miss him terribly. Sometimes it hurts so much I can hardly concentrate. Sometimes I just want to sit and cry. Sometimes I want to close my eyes and when I open them he will still be alive.
I know that at some point this is a part of life and parents die. It is the natural course of life. I know that he is in a "better place". I know he is in peace and not in pain. However, those feel like empty words and sentences to me. I get all that but my heart tells me otherwise.
I miss hearing him talk endlessly and with such passion about his country and WWII and what everyone did aboard the ship on VJ Day. I miss his voice. I miss talking to him on the phone. I miss his presence in my life and my children's lives. I miss him when I think of his house around the corner. I miss him when I think about my life in San Diego. I miss him when I hear people talk about their dads who are still alive. I miss him when I talk to my mom. I miss him when I see my children grow taller and older every day. I miss him when I read something about the second world war. I miss him when I sit in church. I miss him when I look outside at the rainy late February day and remember sitting outside at the cemetery as he was laid to rest.
Recently I was sorting the kids school photos so I can add them to their albums and I came across Jennifer's preschool photo and sat down, stared at it, and cried in the privacy of my own office. Stuff like that is what hits me at times and that may seem silly to some people. The photo of Jennifer in preschool was the photo I placed inside the drawer of my dad's coffin.
I miss being able to ask him a question. I miss him being able to help with little things. I miss his jokes and our many inside jokes. I miss hearing him say, "oh really?" when I used to tell him something and now when I hear someone say that phrase I immediately think of my dad (in fact, my mom sometimes says that and it always makes me smile).
There are millions of little things I miss. And, millions of bigger things I miss too. That is the thing about grief...it hits us all differently and it hits us all at different moments. Sometimes someone will say something that will trigger an emotion and I am fighting back tears. Other times I will think of my dad and smile...or frown or shake my head or laugh or chuckle. Some days it hits me as I am crossing kids. Some days it hits me as I am cooking dinner. Some days it hits me as I am folding clothes. Some days it hits me as I am washing dishes or driving or gardening or flying or drinking coffee or reading the newspaper or writing or reading a novel or while I make a shopping list.
His life has made a permanent imprint on my own life.
And by no means does this mean nor indicate that my dad was perfect or he lived a righteous life. We used to argue and fight and disagree. He would get mad at me and I got mad at him. There are things about his past that I personally don't agree with but he found nothing wrong with the actions. There were moments of disappointment. He was real and not someone I have put on a pedestal after death as an iconic symbol of fatherhood.
However, he was a great dad to me. He was there. He was active in my life. He was present in every aspect. He built me up and I never for one minute doubted the fact that he loved me unconditionally...and no matter how much I screwed up or acted like an idiot or pretended that I didn't care, he still loved me and I knew that. There are many things that I keep private and I don't share with everyone and I have many times and stories over the years that I look back on and cherish because they are special to me even in their simplicity. I keep those close to my heart, guarded and private.
However, there are plenty of memories that I do enjoy sharing and that are among my favorite memories: the sight of him barbecuing steaks every Saturday night, holding a glass of scotch on the rocks. Waiting for him on the front step to come home from work...being dropped off by his friend Vinnie who he carpooled with. Watching him try and feed Jennifer her baby food. Knowing the boys were totally into cars, especially Hummers, asked a friend and neighbor of his (who owned a Hummer) if he would be willing to take us for a drive in a Hummer that had more television sets than my house did (the boys were thrilled!). Watching him work his daily puzzle in the newspaper with a cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and a slew of pills he had to take every day. Calling him as a very young adult from Northern California when I was running out of gas and realized I was out of money too and the one gas card I did have (in his name) expired the day before and he was able to give the gas attendant his credit card number over the phone. Our weekly tradition of church, breakfast, and donuts for the kids every Sunday. He would drive the golf cart with Josh all over the park showing Josh anything he wanted to see (rabbits, boats, etc.).
I could go on and on and on...
Sigh.
These are tough posts for me to write. I have already had to take three breaks and I'm not even finished yet. Certain memories hit me more poignantly than others, it seems.
At the end of the day I had a great dad. Someone who I could rely on. Someone I knew loved me. Someone who was always there for me. Someone who I could laugh with and disagree with. Someone who loved my kids with all his heart. Someone who I wish was still here to see us all and be with us all. Someone who always had answers for me. Someone who was passionate and loving and friendly. Someone who was adored by most. Someone who loved new cars, electronics he couldn't figure out but wanted anyway, steaks, spaghetti with meatballs, and being able to pull out a pencil from his pocket and draw out the answer to any question.
So, it isn't just today that the tears come and I miss him. I miss him more today than I did six years ago because after so many years it begins to really dawn on you that he is truly gone. On this day the memory of his last day comes to my mind and I will work hard at pushing the images away, for now they tend to be too painful.
I love you, dad. And, I wish you were still among us to share in our life, watch the kids grow, sit at the table and drink coffee, and walk where we walk.
My life...while it moves forward and continues to progress, and I will laugh and cry and make decisions and feel joy and happiness and peace, and garden and read and learn and cook and take vacations and see new things and raise my children....will never really be the same.
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