Four months

Four months.

Seventeen-and-a-half weeks.

“Only.”

“Already.”

And here it’s been several weeks since I’ve posted.

When I started this blog back in January, I envisioned writing–if not daily, then semi-daily or even weekly–but that’s not come to pass.

I still have a text file with a long list of specific memories to write about, but it hasn’t felt RIGHT, to “just” cycle through some “list” of “topics.” And even WITH that “list,” plenty of other memories that are “just mine.” That I may never share, with ANYone. That were just between Dad and ME.

Though I’m loathe to phrase it QUITE this way, it feels like Mom and I are “finally” starting to “rejoin the world” a bit. Mom went to NYC several weeks ago. I went to Michigan for a weekend with Mike and Drew around then.

This past week I’ve taken my longest non-bereavement-leave stretch of PTO since that Texas trip with Katie and Tim back at the end of June 2015. Went down to Alabama to visit with Sara, her husband, and the boys. Went to the Huntsville Comic & Pop Culture Expo. “Met” Kevin Eastman and got my nearly-30-year-old copy of TMNT #50 signed. (That I originally got at Capp’s Comics that night back in 1992…preceding even The Death of Superman stuff!)

Over the last few days, got to spend time with Sara, with Brittani, with Craig, and even finally with Ashley after all these years as “facebook friends.” Right before driving to Alabama, got to spend time with Hillary. So many other friends I also “owe” some time.

It’s astounding in its way to look back over the years and people in my life and realize just how many years HAVE come and gone already. I’m 41, and have 23+ years’ continuous history with a number of dear friends. Other friends I go back further with–back to 34 years or so.

Had just several weeks over 41 years with Dad, and now four months without.

We got my car fixed the other week. And on the way to Alabama, I found myself recalling that single time that Dad was able to get into this car, and drive it. He’s the one that pushed GETTING the car to begin with, and I couldn’t have gotten it without him, especially back then. And EVEN when it sat “dead” in the driveway for over a year, he was always so…I don’t even know the word I want. Not exactly “proud,” but maybe in that vein. He was always so impressed with the car.

Now it’s one of the “tangible” things I have, from him.


Over these past four months, I’ve “recalled” more dreams than I think I EVER have in my life, in such a short stretch. I don’t remember ever, so regularly, waking up remembering my dreams. And when I self-analyze, I do see where so many of them are obviously tied to Dad, to this loss.

In addition to the still-even-years-after-the-last-move “anxiety dreams” about packing/moving, plenty of recurrences of dreams where I’m back in school, and either can’t remember my class schedule or I’m gonna fail out of a class for not showing up/turning in homework all semester and now having to show up to ‘face the music’. Other dreams where I’m at some hotel type setting and can’t find my room, or I’ve forgotten something and have to go back to my room to get it and can’t remember how to GET back to the room.

And a number of dreams where Dad is “present” but like a “cameo.” He’s just in the other room where I’m “aware” that he’s there. Or I’m passing through a room where he’s asleep or watching TV or some such and I’m taking his presence for granted. Or someone mentions him in the present tense, and it’s like life is still normal or what it was. These remind me of tv show cameos where an actor is gone, but they find ways to keep a character present/involved.

I’ve also had a couple of dreams WITH Dad…breaking down in tears and thankfulness at realizing the past months have been some mistake, some misunderstanding.


Tonight, Mom and I watched Avengers: Endgame. I’d watched Infinity War with her and Dad around Christmas 2020…Dad had drifted through a lot of it/just didn’t really “get into it,” and I never “got around to” having them watch Endgame.

A couple scenes definitely hit me differently this time than when I first saw the film 3 years ago in the theater. Tony getting to see his Dad; and Thor getting to see his Mom.

Thanks to Sara, Brittani, Craig, and Ashley, it didn’t even hit me last night that that was the exact 4 months–the evening of the 29th INTO the 30th.

Part of me feels almost “guilty,” but that’s ME, that’s the way I am “wired” mentally. Plenty of other thoughts surely to process as time goes on.

I’d like to think that Dad would be glad, though. He always commented about how “negative” I could be or was or whatever. I consider(ed) myself “practical,” but I know he would NOT actively want me sad, discouraged, frustrated, etc. He CERTAINLY would NEVER have wanted to be the CAUSE of said feelings.

But that part can’t be helped. Except that when I feel “guilty” for living, for continuing on, etc, I try to remind myself of it.

And like that song says… “but I know you’re in a place where all your wounds have been erased, and knowing yours are healed is healing mine . . . and the thought that makes me smile now even as the tears fall down is that the only scars in Heaven are on the hands that hold you now . . . I know the road you walked was anything but easy. You picked up your share of scars along the way. Oh but now you’re standing in the sun, you fought your fight and your race is run, the pain is all a million miles away…”

It’s those of us left behind that have to face the loss, the pain, the sorrow, the memories. That have to somehow live, even though he’s now apart from us physically.

Until all things are made new.

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