Loss

I lost my father at 29. He was 83. Well, lost is a strange term, I didn't "loose him", I knew exactly where he was but in so many ways even before he died he wasn't there. I realized that the feeling of loss happens long before the body finally stops. My father died of congestive heart failure which is the end of a long road of symptoms and small losses along the way. His body failed him long before his mind and in many ways that was a blessing. We always called him "The Brain", and his mental prowess was one of his most distinctive traits. I felt lucky that he was still "Dad" until the end, even though he increasingly dwelt in a constructed world inside his head. It was his own way of avoiding his encroaching mortality. More of that in a later post.

For me the loss actually started when I was very young. I became increasingly aware of the great age gap between my parents, 24 years to be exact, and saw that my father was often the same age if not older than my friends grand parents. The fear of his death became a steady partner in my psyche and I began to build up the fear of that eventuality at the age of 7, much too young to have a crippling fear of losing a parent. Death was not a foreign concept in my family though. My own mother lost her father when she was 17 to a tragic helicopter accident and my father's mother, at the age of 86, died when I was 6, but it was the growing fear of losing my father that became a weight on my shoulders and made me very sensitive and fearful of anything I considered lost time.

In truth I always had difficulty with his birthday. I desperately wanted the days to slow down or reverse. I couldn't bear that inevitable ticking I would hear in my head. I was always super conscious that my father was much older than any of my friend's father's. A 7 year old shouldn't be afraid of their father's birthday but I grew to be terrified of it. I felt deeply betrayed by the passing of time and the fact that I knew we would never have enough. Most days I am filled with a sense of gratefulness that I had him for almost 30 years, but some days, like today (October 1st), which would have been his 84th birthday I am crushed. I wasn't supposed to lose him so soon. I know I should focus on happy memories and I have many. Though he was never one for a big birthday celebration, he never wanted to miss a chance to bake something special and I always tried to make something special if I was with him to celebrate. Mostly I miss just calling him and wishing him a happy birthday. That simple act and connection is the most painful to lose.

The day to day reminder that I can't tell you what I'm doing, what I have planned or hear about something interesting that you read. The small details are what I miss the most.

"I thought of you today but that is nothing new

I thought about you yesterday and the days before that too

I think of you in silence Sometimes can hardly say your name

All I have are memories and your pictures in a frame

Your memory is a keepsake From which I'll never part

I could fill the sky with your smile I carry you in my heart""