October 1st

You will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved.  But this is also the good news.  They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up.  And you come through.  It's like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly - that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. ~Anne Lamott

October 1st is here again and, as I do every October 1st, below I will share a few thoughts on missing dad (I allow myself this day to reflect on my life without dad...so bear with me).

Every year around this time I find myself getting very nostalgic and noticing the alarmingly fast passage of time (that may explain my last post).  Strange as it sounds, each year I sit back and calculate the number of weeks that have passed since my dad died - 572 1/2 (if you count the 3 extra days for the leap years), and think about all the little things that have happened in those weeks that I would have shared with him.  I know the big things that he's missed, but what about all the little everyday things that may not stand out in our memories forever, but that make life what it is?  I think about all the little stories that would have made dad laugh or concerned and I get a little sad for the day-to-day things he's missed that he would have loved.

The other night my dad's brother, Galen, stayed with us. He was catching an early flight out of John Wayne and we all thought it would be ideal for him to park here and let Jonathan drop him off on his way to work in the morning (the perks of living 10 minutes from and airport and working 2 minutes from the airport...).  Galen got here around 3:00 and he was outside playing ball with Clare and my heart nearly exploded because he sounded just like my dad.  In that moment, I realized that is as close as Clare will ever get to playing with her Papa, and it made me so happy to have uncle Galen and so sad not to have my dad all at the same time.  Later that night Galen went to an Angel game with us, and as he held Laurel throughout the game, looking at her little feet and giving her kisses, I knew that if my dad were here, that is EXACTLY how he would have chosen to watch the game; with Laurel or Clare in his lap.  Again, my heart was filled with mixed emotions and I was so grateful that Galen was there with us and is willing to show my girls such love.

A couple of days later, my uncle Ted, husband to my dad's sister Lola, was in town from Colorado and so the girls and I headed to my mom's house to visit with him.  Jake, Steph and Abigail also went to mom's and as we all sat together laughing, catching up and eating a delicious home-cooked meal, I once again reflected on how much my dad and Lola would have loved to be there.  Ted was holding Abigail (on the left) and Laurel (on the right) and I just knew that if dad had been with us, that would have been his absolute favorite thing to do.  Hold TWO grandbabies, only 8 weeks apart in age,  at the same time.  Knowing dad, he would try to invent something to make his lap bigger so he could hold Clare, too.  Sadly, instead of inventing a lap expander to solve the problem of not being able to hold more than two grandchildren at once, dad would never meet any of his grandchildren.

As I mentioned in my last post, we were collecting pictures of Oma and the family for Oma's recent 90th birthday extravaganza, and I found myself getting obsessed with the iMovie that Jonathan and I made.  I spent hours organizing, editing and watching Oma's life on screen.  I realized that my obsession came from the gigantic void that is hard to miss in all of my family pictures.  As my hard drive fills with images of my friends, family, travels, events, etc. there is one person who isn't in any of them.  To make matters worse, my dad passed away just as digital photography was really becoming a high quality option, so my pictures of him are all on film.  I've taken it upon myself to scan approximately 5 of those pictures into iPhoto, so every year around this time, I go to my pathetic collection of dad photos and choose the same ones for my post.  Then I feel guilty because he was so much more than this small collection.  So, I'm thinking that it's time to take action and I'll make it a project to scan and store my pictures of dad so that his face takes up a bit more real estate on our hard drive and my pictures can vary in showing who he really was.  It sounds silly, but I know that it will make me feel better.

I was extraordinarily lucky to have a dad who I could talk to and who I enjoyed talking to.  I know not everyone has that.  However, it can feel all that more lonely when it is gone.  One of his old high school buddies gave me a big hug and told me I'm not alone a couple weeks ago, and I realized that I certainly feel alone at times.  Not in the sense of my life as a whole, but in my life as a daughter.  Not to say that I don't have the most amazing mother ever; I do.  But when mom needs help, as she did recently, I feel alone.  Even though we had more support than I can express, it was lonely.  I should have been there to relieve dad of the cleaning and to discuss how mom was really feeling and how he was really doing over a glass of wine.  Mom shouldn't have had to depend on me (not that I minded - I actually enjoyed helping).  It's just that dad was her teammate and if I felt his absence that strongly, I can only imagine how she must have felt.  I really miss the way my mom and dad were together.  I love that they were so in love .

Big events have been going on in our lives lately.  My brother's and I are all watching our own respective families expand and are all sad that dad never got to meet our kids.  There have been those times when I need to hear his take on something or get his advice about a decision and it's tough that he's not here.  I miss having my dad to help me work through a problem, or explain something to me.  I miss his hugs and I miss his quirky sayings and his laugh.  I miss the way his eyes would light up when he saw me and I miss the way he would make me feel like everything would always be alright.  I miss feeling like a little girl - and he always made me feel like a little girl, because I knew that when he was there I would be taken care of.  My family felt complete with him, and no matter how much we love each other and love being together, we all feel his absence when we are together.

So, October 1st is back and to add insult to injury, it falls on a Monday.  Just as it did all those years ago.  I remember the day like it was yesterday.  I can still feel the same anxiety and doom.  I remember the little things and the big things - the entire day is preserved in my memory in mint condition.  When I think about it I feel the same horror, fear, and pain that I felt when I heard him take his last breath.  Still, I would push rewind and relive that horrible day because I would be with him and would get to say the things I needed to say, but that he already knew.  Even more, I would hear his voice as he said the things he needed to say, but that I already knew.  I would hug him again, I would kiss his face again and I would say goodbye again.