Two years ago today, my dad passed away. And that’s a stupid term because he didn’t pass anywhere. He left. I’ve been angry about that.
Throughout my life, my dad rarely left me behind. When he did, it was always with a goodbye and notification of when he’d be back. He didn’t say goodbye this time, and he didn’t come back. I’ve been angry about that for two years.
I was planning to travel to Laramie to see him on the day that my dad died. He didn’t wait for me. He always waits for me. Except he didn’t. I’m still angry about that.
My life has been filled with time with Dad. My earliest memories are of sitting beside him while he played his guitar and taught his little girls to sing, and laugh, and enjoy each other. He told us stories and watched cartoons with us. He chased us around the house, tickling us when we were caught. When my mom was busy growing humans inside her and too sick to cook for us, Dad fed us stale popcorn, cold pizza, and raw toast, which is really just bread that’s been warmed up in the toaster and then slathered with lots of butter. I’m pretty sure there is nothing better than those meals. I mean, look at us! We all survived and grew into sort of responsible adults.
Dad hasn’t made me raw toast for two years. I’ve been angry about that.
We moved to Turnerville, Wyoming the year I turned nine. From that time forward, I learned to work on a farm. With my dad as a tutor, I learned to drive a tractor, herd cattle, slaughter chickens, ride motorcycles, move irrigation pipe, and plant/harvest crops. I also learned to play Kick the Can, Piggy Wants a Signal, Workup, and several other games he made up on the spot. He encouraged me as my love for music grew. When I started piano lessons, he played duets with me. He made me feel certain that I was the smartest person ever born. I was a little bit crushed when, in high school, he admitted that my calculus homework was beyond his ability to tutor. And I sort of didn’t believe him. I think he just wanted me to trust myself and do it without him. But I loved the times when he was helping me with my homework, and practicing, and playing when all the work was done.
He hasn’t helped me with my homework for two years now. And it doesn’t matter that I haven’t had any. I’ve still been angry about that.
When I got married, my dad cried. I hugged him and asked if he was okay. He made a joke and said all his kids would leave him someday, and he’d be stuck at home with just Mom. It was many years before everyone left home, though. And I ended up living only three blocks away from him. He saw me almost daily as we built a business together and worked in tandem to grow it successfully. He always took me on business trips. He asked my advice, argued with me when he didn’t agree, and told me how much he loved working with me.
He left me behind on his final trip. And even though I didn’t necessarily want to go with him, it still made me angry.
A lot of things happened in the twelve months after my dad died. My son was nearly killed in a car accident that broke the entire right side of his body and severely injured his brain and some internal organs. For months, I watched and helped as I could, while he struggled to heal. I really wanted my dad around during that time. I wanted to hear him tell me Alex would be okay. I needed him to hug me. But he didn’t. I was pretty angry about that.
My daughter found out she was pregnant the month that her husband was deployed to Germany. That was difficult. I tried to support her as much as I could, having her stay in our home, helping her through the many ups and downs a first pregnancy brings. It’s what a mom does. But I really wanted my dad sometimes. Because I was tired. And angry.
My daughter-in-law, Alex’s wife, brought forth our firstborn grandchild. And that was pretty amazing. But she had a difficult pregnancy and birth because she was also in the accident with Alex. And while her injuries were more minor, they were still injuries. And then she got pre-eclampsia, which turned into post-eclampsia, which I didn’t even know was a thing. I got to take care of her newborn as she healed. Thank goodness I also had pregnant Natalie with me because people my age should not be taking care of newborns. My new granddaughter inherited my dad’s birthmark, and I wanted to show him. But he wasn’t around to see, and I’ve been angry about that.
Then my husband’s sister died unexpectedly. And his nephew died, too. And I needed to talk to my dad about that because at this point, I didn’t think I had much left, emotionally, and I was feeling pretty overwhelmed. But he didn’t have any advice to give me because he was also dead. And that sucks. And it made me angry.
People said really great things about my dad watching over me through all the things that happened. That made me angry, too, because watching is not hugging. Or talking. Or anything tangible or helpful that I can feel.
So after that first year, I checked out of feeling angry because it’s exhausting, and I hate it. But I felt like the grieving and healing I was supposed to do when I lost my dad were interrupted. I was in this place where I didn’t have my dad anymore, but it didn’t mean anything except just that. He was gone, and I was still here.
I was still here.
There’s something wonderful about still being here. My dad would remind me of that.
In the past couple of months, I’ve heard my dad tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself. He’s reminded me that I need to get up and go to work. And he’s let me know how absolutely freaking blessed I am that I have my amazing Alex back, walking and with his brain healed, being a dad to his daughter, just like my dad was to me. My dad is ecstatic about my two delightful granddaughters, and I’m pretty sure he’s the one who gave the birthmark to Gwen just to remind me he’s still around. He’s nudged me to be grateful, to cry when I’m sad, and laugh through the tears because there is always something to be happy about.
Today I’m not angry anymore. And I miss my dad like crazy. But I’ve finally realized that he never left me behind. He left me with a lifetime of memories and love that can guide me when he can’t hug me.
I’ll take that.
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