It has been almost 10 years since my father died of cancer and I still often think I see him walking into stores or stepping out of cars. I see the back of an older man - salt and pepper hair, slim build, loafers and khakis - and, for a split second, I think it is him. When that happens, at least once a week, I am hit with an overwhelming feeling of grief and sadness. Of course it isn't him. It can't be him. He probably wouldn't even look like that anymore. The feeling hits hard, right in the chest, and then fades... and I go on with my day and forget the whole thing. But I never forget him. He is always right there... in the back of my mind, deep in my heart, right there. I miss him every single day. What they say about it getting easier is true. 10 years ago I missed him every single second, then it became every hour or so, then it became every few hours, and now it is every day. It changed me, his death. It changed the way I see the world, the way I love people, the way I parent, the way I am a wife, the way I think about almost everything. For one thing the world became, for me, a scarier place. It is a place where bad things DO happen to good people. I learned that life is risky, that loving people can be terrifying (because they can leave you even if they don't mean to or want to.) It drives my husband crazy the way I worry about everything. I worry about things that make sense in relation to my father's death like sickness, accidents, death (obviously) and so on but I also worry about silly things. I worry because it gives me a sense of control, I suppose. If I worry enough... bad things won't happen (which is obviously completely untrue). But being a worrier is so at the core of who I am now that it is strange to realize that I don't think I became such a worrier until my father died.
It's nights like tonight when I can't sleep and the house is quiet that I really find myself feeling the depth of the sadness in my heart. It's when I really remember him and miss him. It's a desperate feeling and it makes a person feel really lost and vulnerable so, for me, it's not a feeling I allow myself to have too often. I might miss him in passing but not often like this. I allow myself to reflect on him, to really remember him before he got sick and after he got sick. The most painful memories are by far the ones of after he got sick. That was a very dark time for my family and there were some particularly horrible moments that I don't think I have ever even spoken aloud to anyone since they happened. It's nights like these that those nightmareish types of memories find their way into my consciousness. But I also find myself remembering joyful little details about him like his favorite brown robe or the way he smelled or his ridiculous impression of a male ballerina which he only did around my mother and I. Those memories bring me peace and happiness because I CAN remember him. I can call up those images. I used to worry that I would forget him but I didn't. He was too valuable to have been forgotten. The fact that I still expect him to be walking out of Target 10 years after his death is a testament to how important he was to me, how important all of our parents are to us. He couldn't possibly really be gone, I think. How is there a world that exists without my dad?
The role of a parent is to teach you, mold you and guide you. Despite what you want to believe when you are 18, you always need your parents. Always. The older I get, the more difficult his absence becomes. I missed him at my high school and college graduations and at my wedding. I want to ask him for advice almost every day. I wish I could have known him as an adult... seen him with grown up eyes. Sometimes I just want to sit quietly with him and watch TV. I miss him so much every day but my heart literally breaks knowing that my sons will never even have the privilege of missing him. You can't miss something you never knew. I think that is, by far, the most difficult part for me. My father would have loved to have had a son and I know grandsons would have filled his heart so much. I know they would have benefited so much from him, learned so much from him, and felt so loved by him. I wish I could hear him say their names or see him hold their little hands, just once. They deserved to know each other.
Aside from the sadness of wishing he could be here with my kids, becoming a parent has really altered my perspective on my father's death in other ways. I now grasp (somewhat and hopefully never fully) how my grandparents felt when my father died. He was 54 but I remember thinking they grieved for him as you would for a small child. It wasn't until Liam was born that I understood that, to them, he was still a baby. He was their baby. It also helped me understand how becoming sick was so incredibly difficult for my father. He wanted to protect me which is why he and I rarely spoke of his illness or what it meant but, ultimately, he couldn't. He lost the battle. He wanted to hold me in his arms but he became too weak. He wanted to participate in life with me - to go waterskiing or even just drive me to school - but brain tumors took his balance and a lot of his sight. It must have been heartbreaking for him to see me right there but feel like he was missing out on me. It makes me appreciate that I have this time with my son and know that I shouldn't take it for granted.
My father was a great guy, really, but mostly he was just my dad. He was incredibly special to me and I loved him immensely. He could have been anybody's dad with the mustache and the dorky clothes. But he was mine. I don't know why nights like tonight happen. I don't know what drove me to miss him so desperately that I wrote this blog and sobbed as I did (apologies for any typos) but, in a strange way, these types of nights make me feel better. They give me the sense that he will never ever truly be gone. I hate missing him so much but would rather miss him than never remember him at all. I hope that having had him as a dad will make me a better mom and I hope that losing him has taught me to cherish those that I love. I hope I am a better person for the struggle and pain. Mostly, I hope my sons will feel as loved by their father and I as my dad made me feel.
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