(no subject)

[felicula]

I am in a state of memory rewind and replay today. A year ago this moment, I knew my Dad's situation was dire, but I had no idea about the phone call I was shortly to receive. Around sunset a year ago, my Mom called. The doc at Buffalo General had asked her if she could get her daughter into town. He had thought if something was going to happen it would happen in the following 24 hours. My Mom was a wreck. I was a wreck. I worked on packing up. I called mechanchaos and told him. At that point it wasn't that long until he got out of work, so we would wait until he got home and leave from here.

I remember the fog was thick that night when he dropped me off in front of the hospital. It wasn't until after he pulled away that I realized that the front door was shut for the night. I panicked. I wandered around the building, checking doors as I went. The ER department was less than halfway around from where I started. I went in there. I nearly broke down when trying to explain my situation to the guard. "My Dad may be dying this very minute upstairs. I need to go in." They told me where to go and how, which I promptly forgot in my panic. Luckily, staff helped me out along the way. I emerged from the elevator to see my uncle and my Mom coming at me with hugs and tears. Five minutes past, he had died. We spent time in the hospital room around his dead body. He was still that alarming jaundice yellow. A drop of condensing moisture hung from his upper lip. My Mom was crying.

If there's one thing I learned from this, it's that life goes on. Life persists, despite sickness and death, in the face of everybody's joys and tragedies. Dark passes into sunrise, bright of noon dims back into night, never mind the poor sot who drank himself to death.

For better or for worse, he was my Dad. My adoptive dad, yes, but the only dad I've ever known. There were years when I was convinced I hated him, for his drinking, for how he treated us when he was drunk. There is still a hole in my life where he once stood. Now, a couple of his coats hang in our hall. My husband wears his sweater. I wear a pair of his shorts. The day breaks, grows, and wanes. Life goes on.

For better or for worse, I miss him.

Comments

[phoenixsong]

*hugtight*

When I looked through the Cordecho that showed up this week, I think I would have been surprised if Grandpa hadn't been mentioned, but it still surprised me it was there. (Mom and one of my aunts are alums, too.)

Life does go on. Different, but still there. *hug*

[blackfelicula.livejournal.com]

***hugs back lots, clingingly***

[phoenixsong]

*hughughughughughughughughughughug*

Is there anything else we can do for you?

[blackfelicula.livejournal.com]

***hugs more*** I think I'm in a mindset to let myself wallow in the memories for the evening. Sometimes choosing sadness is cathartic.

Later, I plan on calling my Mom (once Aidan's home, so he can talk too), and sharing M&Ms with Aidan that we'd put in the "ancestor" part of our family altar in his memory.

It doesn't feel right to let today go by and not mark it in some way. ***hugs and hugs and hugs and hugs***

[phoenixsong]

*nod* I can't bring myself to take Grandpa's birthday off my Google calendar. I just can't do it. And there's going to be all sorts of fuss over VT on April 16, which will just remind me that 4/18 is coming up just behind it.

lite is going to be in Buffalo doing wedding stuff this weekend. If you want to give me a call, I should be as available as my crappy cell phone allows me to be. *hug*

[hbbtrbbtbcnbt.livejournal.com]

*loves and hugs and remembers and more hugs* I've been thinking about you these last few days, noticing your online absence. It occurred to me today that it had been one year since your dad passed, and all that had been. *more loves and hugs and hugs and hugs*

I will be here, though sporadically...this weekend is going to be a hectic one...please call if you would like. I will return it if I'm not here, or I will eek out some time and call you. *LOVES*