You know what happens? You lose them. You lose the people you love. It happens. Sometimes they get run over by a car, as happened to my friend Rich. Sometimes they catch a bad break and a fatal disease decides to pay a visit and fucking kill them, as happened to my dad. Been through it a couple times now, and I can tell you this, it sucks. And you never make the best of it, but I know I will continue to be an idiot, and so will everyone else.
Hmm. Maybe I’d better explain that.
I loved my father for as long as I can remember, and in the last few days a lot of memories have flooded to the fore. Memories that have saddened and impressed, pleased and depressed. Memories. Meanings. Decisions made, stories told, lessons attempted. My dad has been elevated to previously unseen heights in my cosmic award system, only to be berated in later internal award shows. This dichotomy is evolving now, and has been for the last few weeks. This is what happens. This is what I’m telling you; pay attention.
What I realize is that: a) Nothing’s gonna change, b) I didn’t say everything that needed to be said, c) I could never have said everything that needed to be said, and: d) Dad did a fantastic job. A terrific job, as he would say. He’s the only guy I know who used that word, terrific. He used it comfortably.