Saturday, February 22, 2003
He died December 29th. I think the 6 days between receiving his terminal diagnosis and his actual death were harder than anything that has followed. I think it may have made the aftermath easier, having time to brace for it. I've since moved on with my life, of course, going back to school and work, but there is not much time when it is not on my mind. My mom is holding up well, which is a blessing. John is missed, though; today, we discovered that the front door to the house will not open (we usually use the side door). My mother and I debated whether the door is swollen from recent rain or if the house is slowly collapsing; Dad would know the cause. But he's gone, and we're learning a little more each day just what that really means. I think once Dad's affairs are settled, things might feel better. I'm getting a reasonably substantial inheritance (most goes to my mother, but my sister and I split an annuity, and I receive a small IRA), which will allow me to pay off most of my car debt (I could pay it all off, but why when I'm paying less that 5%?), with more left over to contribute to my IRA with some emergency savings left over. So I am not obsessing over the stock market just like Dad did, doing my homework with due dilligence to find a stock Dad would be proud of. For what its worth, if you're looking to invest, The Limited looks promising. But I digress. Like I told the school psychiatrist (figure if my tuition's paying for it, might as well use it), at least I was beginning to understand, even before he died, that I was my father's son.
I still just wish I could remember him better before he got sick. It's getting better. For awhile, I could only see him as he was in the hospital that last week, belly swollen with water because his gallblader and liver had shut down. His appearance once he was actually dead didn't look substantially different from how he looked the day before. But now at least I can see him more as he was for the bulk of his illness, including his good patches. We had fun together in Vegas the first time he was in remission. Perhaps he didn't walk as much as he usually did on vacations (he likes to tell about the time he ran across the freeway to get to the Rio), but it was almost like things were normal, and I got to show Dad how his son burns the tables. Having my father watch me blow through $1000 in about five minutes the first night of our trip was interesting. But I still have trouble looking back, remembering the Dad of my childhood.
I think that's enough on this topic. Perhaps now I'll update this more frequently. Perhaps I'll write about Dad some more, but now I can start talking about what else is going on in my life. And maybe get more into my life again. It's hard to tell, but I think I've become more secluded since Dad died. But I'm trying to get back into the swing, maybe having to write about what I'm up to will jumpstart the process.