Maybe I thought you were invincible and I never expected you to die so soon. You were 64, the same age your own mother was when she passed, so I probably shouldn't have been surprised. After all, it is said our personal stories and their endings are written way before we exist. Perhaps this is why I hated the Ides of March so much in my younger days. Maybe I knew that March 6th, the day when Titi Emma died, would pop up again in my lifetime. Who knows? The certainty I have now is this: I hate the month of March with a vengeance. Especially my birthday, because it is a countdown to bad things, no matter what way you paint it.
I need to exorcise all these feelings, thoughts, whatever out of me so that once I put them out there into the great void, my load might feel a little lighter.
Dad, I don't want you to think that I am not sad, or that I don't miss you at all. I miss you terribly. Our nightly phone conversations, our weekend get-togethers, our chats about books, laughing at the girls....I miss it all. I think of how people thought we were all crazy working in the same school together, but to me, it was Heaven. I was able to share every single part of my life with both my parents at every single moment of the day. We were a unit in every sense of the word and we didn't know how not to be that way. It is hard to lose that. Often, I find myself thinking 'Oh, I can't wait to tell D that', and then I get mad at myself because you aren't here. It is horrible, this empty feeling that I just can't get away from. You were my best friend; a part of me that I can't seem to function well without. I need you to know that I will mourn once all the mountains of paperwork are taken care of, the boxes are put away, and the dust settles. There is just too much to do to waste it completely on crying and I can't fall apart on the people that are counting the most on me. You taught me that.
The prime example of those that count on me: your two granddaughters. They miss you terribly. Especially the little one, who has surprised us by talking about you, in spite of all her social limitations. Can you believe it? I am sure that you can. You see, Banshee misses her best friend too. Just as you were a huge force in all of our lives, you were just as important to her and one constant that she looked for to make her feel right about the world. You always understood her and the love you had for her broke through even the barriers of her condition. She was perfect to you in every way and I believe that is the reason why she asks about you or she looks up at a cloud to say wisely: 'Papa is watching up there'. On the other hand, Pixy misses you in a different way. She gets sad that she can't be praised by you, or that you won't teach her to read, or that you aren't here to celebrate the silliest things (Pixy still mentions the fact that you were all supposed to have an un-birthday party for the dolls). She laughs sadly at the fact that she named you after the character in the Disney movie and about the time she locked you in the bathroom downstairs. Fun memories that she will have with her always. It is as she says: "That's great but Papa isn't here." Don't you just hate how the smartest things come out of the mouths of babes?
All of it is hard. I won't lie to you. To know that you won't be here in person for all the rest of the milestones we have yet to cover, all the battles we have yet to fight, all of the tears, all of the celebrations...death is never convenient, is it? Your death is a horrifying and humbling surprise, that makes a person appreciate just how limited our time here on Earth really is. "We know when we get here but we sure don't know when we get to go". Ain't that the truth!
I need you to know that in spite of all my pain, I remain your creature above all things. I still treat the world as a never-ending classroom(can't let that teachable moment slip us by, can we?), books as the rarest jewels in the world, and am able to pull out of me strength and confidence when God knows I shouldn't have any. I can't help but smile at that. You taught me that hope is always the last thing to go, when in doubt wear red, the sun will always come up the next day(no matter what), dreaming is just as important as the steps it takes to turn them into reality, that hard work is never something to be afraid of and a blessing in disguise, always take a book with you and you won't ever be alone, and that love is a gift that should be given freely to those around you, no matter what. As you used to say: "Otherwise what is the damn point?" I will forever think of that day when someone compared me to you and I matter-of-factly answered, echoing another great lady: "I am my father's daughter." I will have that always.
I want you to understand that part of me went in the casket with you on your burial day. I may not show my grief as other people do, but I wear it daily. I see it in the sad eyes of my mother, in the long conversations with my sister, in the hunched shoulders of my husband, and in the smiles of my children. They are a constant reminder that I have this cloak of grief about me that I will wear forever but won't ever surrender to. A reminder that I won't be able to fall apart. There isn't time for that. Life might get better, with time, but the grief won't cease to exist. No one recovers from the death of their best friend, no matter what their demeanor tells you, or what their mouths are uttering. I won't succumb to being the hysterical kind of female that you hated. It isn't in me. You saw to that.
I want you to know that you played all the roles a man should play very well. I am not saying you weren't human, you had your faults, but perhaps the main reason why your family mourns you with all their beings(and in different ways), is that you were an excellent father, an excellent husband, a grandfather without equal, and a great human being. You left us all a legacy of love, knowledge, and strength that will live on in us until our last days here. Don't doubt it. Ever.
The only balm to my pain, to be honest, is that I have this crazy hope that one day while out and about, I will look up and somewhere in the crowd, I will see a familiar face. Or maybe just a familiar set of eyes. SOMEthing will make me take notice. I will stop and I will probably stare, because that is what I do. Then, a slow smile will start to blossom because somehow, I will know that I am looking at you.
I miss you old man and there ain't no more to say.
-Me
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