Skip to main content

Happy 71st birthday, Dad

Hey Dad,

Happy 71st birthday. Yes, I know I'm writing this five days early, but it's what works best with my blogging schedule--call that selfish if you want, but it is what it is. And, you know, this year your birthday is on Thanksgiving and I think I won't be up for writing to you that day.

So, here we go.

Life has been complicated since you passed away in March. Grief comes and goes, though, I suppose, never fully goes. At first, the shock and confusion of what I was supposed to actually do dominated my mind. But friends helped quite a lot with holding me gently and making me know that they cared and were thinking of me.

Now, though, the rentlessness of life is settling back in. I still have to get laundry done, alone. I still have to feed myself, (mostly) alone. I have to clean my apartment and myself, alone. I suppose I did all of those things before you died, but somehow it feels different now that you're gone.

I suppose I don't really know what exactly to say to you. 

You're not here.

I know that some people could probably write you a tome of forgiveness about how beautiful your life was despite the addiction, but I just am not there. And I don't now if I'll ever be there. I won't promise you that.

I went through some of your stuff in the storage unit we rented for you. It was devastating. There was proof of all of your academic accolades from report cards to Mandelbrot Competition certificates to diplomas.

And yet, none of it saved you.

Your intellect did not save you.

You could not rationalize or prove your way out of your alcoholism.

You could not and, now, cannot expunge the pain you put me and my brother--your son--through. We will carry hurt with us forever. We will grow around it--this I know. But I don't see it vanishing.

I do not even know if I'll ever be able to have a glass of wine or a cocktail without first thinking of you and that pain. I'm having a glass of wine now. Perhaps that was a mistake. It's blueberry. You probably wouldn't like it. But, sadly, you'd probably still drink it.

If you were still here, it would be around this time that I'd be figuring out how to spend time with you on or close to your birthday given my work and holiday schedule. I would be struggling with what to give you since so little brought you even a moment of joy in your final months.

A dark part of me wonders if I should've just given you what you'd once asked for--a snuck-in bottle of wine. What difference would it have really made at that point?

I know I wouldn't have. I still have nightmares about you drinking.

I hope you're at peace--if such a thing can even be achieved.

I do miss you. I miss the dad that once cooked twice a week for me, who was proud of me, who once told me having kids was the best decision he ever made. But it has been so long since I've known that dad. But, that dad is still with me. He sits in my heart, even as the other dad that I also knew just as well sits there too.

I don't know if I'll ever write to you for your birthday again.

In case I don't, I love you and I wish we could've had at least a slice of cake together.

Love,

Your Daughter

(Prompt by me)

Photo by Peyman Shojaei on Unsplash


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

15 facts I learned from a random Wikipedia article

Original prompt: click on "Random Wikipedia Article" and write about whatever comes up (you can try 3 times and pick your favorite). For the record, I got Alejandro Estivill , Fencing at the 2011 Pan American Games – Women's épée , and Benjamin F. Jonas . I chose Benjamin F. Jonas because it was the longest of the three entries and it had a photo. He was born in Kentucky, moved to Illinois as a kid, and went to college and spent the rest of his life in Louisiana Jonas's father was a merchant and lawyer His father knew Lincoln (like they were real buds) Despite this, Jonas sided with the confederacy Not only did he side with the confederacy, but he joined the Confederate army and rose to the rank of major He went to University of Louisiana (now Tulane) Jonas was Jewish (I didn't know there were Jewish senators who served the Confederacy) He was the second Jewish U.S. Senator from Louisiana and the third Jewish Senator overall Jonas was the first Ashkenazi Jewish US...
Post a Comment
Read more

Origin story or first issue of a superhero whose super power is geometry

Arya sat in history class and was bored. She longed to get to geometry, where things made more sense. She liked geometry so much that she had joined the math team to be able to do it more. Okay, there was also the extra time with her friends who loved math as much as she did, but some of the appeal was just the math itself. Finally the bell rang and Arya had four minutes to get to her geometry class. She passed right by the chemistry class next door where her least favorite teacher was conducting experiments. He needed to be more careful, thought Arya. The teacher had once exploded a glass beaker and not on purpose. Arya took her seat and excitedly pulled out her notebook. It was her favorite color: hot pink. She assigned her notebook and folder colors in ways that felt right to her. And since geometry was her favorite subject, she made her notebook and folder for it her favorite color. As the teacher started to go over the most common mistakes from the last quiz, Arya could've swo...
Post a Comment
Read more

Color palette

Original prompt: "Google "color palette," pick one, and write something inspired by it." I actually Googled "color palette public domain" to be sure I could use it and found the image on this post. I used the "floral" section for my inspiraiton. The soft sunlight somehow didn't dim the shine of the fireflies. Such it was in the fae realm. Fern loved this time of day in the faewild where it wasn't quite day, but it was far from night. Fern frolicked alone in the glade as she was want to do. It didn't matter to her that her laughter carried itself alone on the breeze; she was content. She wasn't sure how long she'd been alone as she watched the suns begin to set, but it was pleasant in its own way. But then, she heard a noise. It wasn't the noise of leaves on the wind or twigs snapping from some comforting creature. It was the noise of someone approaching with grim determination. Fern wasn't sure how to ready herself to ...
Post a Comment
Read more