Some of you know I lost my dad almost two years ago (“lost” is such a funny euphemism; like I misplaced him at Target or something. No, he died). November 20 is his birthday, and November was always when I saw him at Thanksgiving. So I’m thinking about him even more than usual, and I think about him a lot already.
Grief is weird; before Dad died, I had never really grieved. My grandmother died, but hers was a slow decline, and she was in her 80s. It was expected. Plus I wasn’t nearly as close to her as I was to my dad (hers are the gowns I wear to conference, thanks, Gram!). But now I’ve been thinking a lot about grief, and memories, and thinking that the pain of the missing never ebbs, but the grief is more distant in everyday life. In other words, when I am reminded of my dad, it hurts almost as badly as it did nearly two years ago when I got the call, but I am able to keep that pain at a distance better.
So many things remind me of him–Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, exclamation points (“only if the universe is on fire!”), King Lear, the Celtics, peanut butter, my son’s vast collection of Pokemon figures culled from the swap shop Dad worked at, duck-footed walks, full beards, Ernest Hemingway, Rachel Carson–shoot, so many things.
I miss him so, so much. This November is going to be hard, as I presume all Novembers will in the future.
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Thank you for this post. I lost my father over ten years ago when I was just seventeen years old. It still hurts every year around his birthday and around April, which is the month he died. I tend to pull out old pictures and reminisce or listen to music he liked. I hate that he never got to meet my husband because I think they would have gotten along so well. While November will be sad I hope that you will remember some great moments and times you had with your dad.
Amanda, thanks for commenting. I am grateful to have gotten my dad for so long, but bummed he won’t get to hear my son ask who Gilgamesh was (like he did last night) or have a second piece of pie at Thanksgiving. I am glad to know it’s not weird that I feel this way.
You’re very right. November will be hard for you as will every reminder. Time doesn’t make it easier just more manageable. I sill have the same pain when dealing with my grandfather who was like my father and with my brother’s death and it’s going on so many years now. I have a strange way of not remembering dates so one up for me but everyday is a date I remember, so boo to that. You will get though with the fond memories and be grateful that you have many.
It’s been three years since my childhood friend fell to his death from a waterfall. The first two months were unbearably hard that I couldn’t stand being out alone by myself for long, because he’d be everywhere in my thoughts and his shadow still populating the world we grew up in. I feel that I’m still the only one who remembers him; other friends act like I’m insane for still hurting this badly when I think of him.
However, I also believe the dead aren’t really gone (is that better than “lost”?) until everyone forgets them. So I will continue to speak of him and try to describe his eccentrics in a way that he’ll live for others. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there. He was that special.
So don’t forget to tell your son about what your dad would’ve said in everyday situations and do for your son what your father would have wanted to do with him. Sing him into your son’s memories so he doesn’t feel that his grandpa left him.
Amanda(2): Thanks for coming by. Your friend’s death sounds even more unexpected than my dad’s, who at least had the excuse of age and hard living. I do exactly as you say, too, reminding my son of Grandpa Jeff, and what he used to say, and do, and that he gave him certain things. I do know he lives on for us, and a lot of the groundwork he did in his life continues on after his death. Thanks.
I imagine that Novembers will be hard for a while.
I wanted to say that I love what your Dad said about exclamation points – “only if the universe is on fire!” LOL That probably needs to be put on T-shirts and given out wholesale to some writers
You had the great gift of a father whom you miss. Although there is grief, that is also a reason for giving thanks, no?
I didn’t realize your dad passed away during my hiatus. I’m so sorry. I read this a few days ago and had a good cry for you. My dad has not been well for several years, and we as a family are thankful for each day, week, holiday, year we get.
Wendy, I agree (!!!!). I think someone else said it originally, but of course I remember him saying it when editing copy. Not mine, of course (ahem!)
Myretta:
Yes, definitely. I am so happy to have had him.
Tara:
I am sorry to hear about your dad. My dad’s passing was very sudden, so I didn’t have that same waiting, which I actually (in hindsight) think was better than if he had fallen ill. My dad was a very bad patient. Best hopes and wishes to your dad.