I had the joy of celebrating this past weekend– and celebrating hard. With friends and family clustering around at every side throughout, it was well worth putting my phone down, laptop away, and simply being with my most adored ones.
It has been six years today since my dad, Hal, died. It feels like that time has passed in a heartbeat yet in the same breath like he’s been in the shadows of my memory for a decade.
Sunday nights have this aura about them. They’re the entryway to the coming week- full of unknowns and possibilities- and a moment to look back on the one you just had. Tonight is the first time I’ve experienced the feelings I am now since I’ve been in New York, maybe even in the United States since I’ve been back. Now that it’s the eve of the 20th and a week or so before I go back to pack up my life, yet again, I’m starting to feel the weight of what it’s going to be like to start somewhere new again.
It’s Father’s Day and like every year since mine has passed, it’s a day that proves to be difficult, or strange at least in one way or another. Certain events though, especially in the past few days, have made me reflect especially on the man who raised me for twenty years of my life.
As yesterday passed I looked at the date on a number of occasions: 5/28/2014. While signing papers, following up on emails, flipping through my planner, checking on documents. What didn’t occur to me was that it was my late dad’s birthday. It’s very strange that I hadn’t taken note of this or grieved not being able to give him a warm hug and cut him a slice of his favorite German chocolate cake. He was never one for making a fuss for his birthday, ever, so I suppose my lack of remembrance would have been fitting. It did make me question though, has almost five years of him being out of my daily life changed the way I miss him?
It won’t be until 10:10 today that my dad died four years ago. I honestly and embarrassingly can’t remember whether it was morning or night, the fluorescent hospital lights and agitated sleep on hard, angled chairs warped time and reality.
We played this song at his funeral; he and I had recently spent hours ruminating over both Jeff Buckley and Leonard Cohen’s renditions in his study.
Thinking of Dad on Father’s Day. Missing an incredibly and deeply loved man, grateful for the years I got to be his daughter, honored to have been a piece of his unforgettable life, and looking forward to seeing him again one day.
While he is not here physically, my father continues to make a poignant and daily impact on my life, and I can only presume dozens of others.