I Miss My Dad

That's the bottom line. I look at the obit and it seems surreal. I feel detached — I don't really know how to fully describe it. The obit has the standard name, the family that survived him, the schedule for the rosaries (we're Catholic), when and where the funeral Mass is, and then — the photo of Dad. This photo is of him in his Knights of Saint Sylvestre attire.

He looks like he's sporting a vintage costume, an old sailor's outfit. He is smiling. He is happy.

He is how I remember him.

It truly is very odd to see him in this photo. Up till this point, the obituary photos I've seen have been of people I did know but didn't really know, if that makes sense. But seeing my Dad here and now brings something different. I see it's a funeral obit. I know what it is and what it represents. But I still cannot somehow fathom that he is no longer with us.

I find myself often in the midst of my day to day — perhaps at my desk — and a memory or thought of my Dad pops up. Joy. Then realization: I can no longer share in creating memories with my father.

I am torn between the fondness I feel for him and the loss, and at the same time angry that I did not heed the words of many before — treasure them, while they are still around — but my story is different. We weren't brought up that way.

I have written previously about the quiet space between Dad and me, and how I did not know how to bridge that gap. I do know that Dad attempted several times as well. I know he felt it. But life and work became the things that postponed those attempts.

I worked for my Dad and Mom, you see. For quite a long time I was an employee, and I think it may have been easier for them to relate to me that way. They were more comfortable being boss than parent. We had work to do.

This is not to say they were terrible parents. I was there from the very beginning and I understood. But understanding did not make the attempts to bridge the gap any less awkward. It just made it difficult, and I am keenly aware that I probably did not make it any easier.

I know that in any relationship, there is never one person to shoulder the blame. It is often both — all — who must bear the brunt of fault.

Maybe this is what they meant by treasure them now. Maybe what was needed was for both of us to understand that we move differently in this world, and that it's not necessarily my place to fix anything — but to come to an understanding.

There is something people say, and I don't always quite agree with it or understand it fully. But maybe, just maybe, to say that it is what it is suffices for now.