One year and seven months ago today we had a funeral for my Dad. Crazy.
Today, my nephew Kale is seven months old. Yeah, do the math.
My father was always fond of pointing out to me how the cycle of life continues. One thing moves on and something new sprouts up in its place.
I guess the same thing happened there with my family. My Dad’s time here was up, and we were given a year to grieve, and then new life sprang into our midst. And he’s beautiful and such a joy. Just like his two older brothers.
I’ve been thinking about my Dad a lot of late. I don’t really know why. It’s not that anything has really sparked his memory in me, or that anyone has been brining him up in conversations unexpectedly. Maybe it’s because I’m working with the soccer club again. Maybe it’s because it’s tax time. I don’t know.
I miss him. Not a day has gone by since August 27, 2007 that I haven’t felt the emptiness of his vacancy in my life. With every event I find myself wishing I could call him up, share my experience, get his advice. Hear his laughter. Feel his concern. Know that he’s there. Loving me. No matter what.
It’s hard, being a survivor. Knowing that you have to trudge on without someone. Knowing that with time the sound of their voice will fade in your memory. The smell of their skin, of their clothes will drift away from you like a breeze. It’s hard to know that even with someone as important to me as my father was… I am starting to feel the memories fade. I have a hard time picturing him in my mind sometimes. I still feel him in my memories. But it’s like the details are getting fuzzy. I’m sure that’s the way it’s supposed to be. But I don’t like it. I don’t like forgetting. I don’t like having a hazy recollection of the man. I love him so much. I miss him terribly.
But I go on. Best I can. Fumbling my way through life. Trying to recall his guidance. Trying to recall his wisdom. Trying, not to be like him, or to “make him proud”… Just trying to be the best man I can be. Which is, of course, all he ever wished for me.
I don’t know if he’s moved on and been reborn yet, or if he’s out there learning the secrets of the universe, or maybe he’s just sitting up there with God. I don’t know. I just hope that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, I hope that he’s happy. That he’s found some sort of joy in the life after this. I wonder if we’ll ever meet again. I wonder if that’s how it really works.
If you can still feel me Dad, know this… though the details fade, and the memories grow weaker… the emotion, the power of my love for you stays strong. I miss you.