some things are permanent

January 18, 2011

Today is the 2nd anniversary of my dad’s death. I had to look at the calendar on my watch yesterday to remind myself. I didn’t want to miss it or miss thinking about him today. I wish I could talk to him again. Not that we ever talked very much, except when I went home and then I had to make a special plan to meet him at Starbucks or go out for Indian food or something like. He was a shitty dad, but a good friend to a lot of people and by shitty I mean that he was absent, not malicious. Anyway, there are a bunch of questions I want to ask him about growing up and the war and meeting his 3rd wife and this girl he loved in China.

I imagine that in the upcoming years I will forget to remember that January 17th is the day my dad died. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust I guess. Still, there is a part of my metaphorical heart that has always been hollowed out by his absence and even if I forget the date he, theĀ  part that’s missing will always be there.

Rest in peace.


4 responses to “some things are permanent”

  1. RU says:

    I’m glad to have met him and been with you through the grief baby

  2. proteanme says:

    me too. on both counts. i’m grateful for those things.

  3. heather says:

    thought about you last week, knowing the anniversary was near… i don’t know if you will ever forget the day, but you were spot on with “the part that’s missing will always be there”. that reminds me of a line from “the god of small things” that talks about a people-shaped hole (specific to the person)that is left in the universe when someone dies. i wish i could remember the line more accurately, because it was such a beautiful way to describe such a sad and profound thing.
    your dad was such a complex person. i’m glad i got the opportunity to meet him, as well. take care and let me know if you need anything.

  4. proteanme says:

    thanks for saying all of that heather. i’m glad you met him too. i think dealing with loss is alot about learning to adapt to what’s gone, which i know you understand. i feel like i’m doing pretty well, but i don’t want to not talk about his dying, which i know you also understand. hope you’re doing well.

leave a reply