Miss Missing You
Every year as Thanksgiving approaches I start to think profound thoughts about grief and life and moving on, and I spend a month or so composing a blog post. And then the day of the anniversary of dad's death arrives and this carefully crafted deeply profound thought I've been working on just sounds stupid. Which I suppose is a lesson in and of itself.
This is the tenth anniversary of my father's death. Which was ten years after his father died. So I've always felt this was a significant one. It's also come with revelations that as of the next decade anniversary I will have spent more of my life without my father than I have with him. How time passes.
But I don't really have anything profound to share on that. The biggest thing I learned from dad's death is that death and grieving are as unique as people are, so while we may all do a lot of the same things absolutely no one has the same experience as anyone else.
What I do want to talk about is missing my dad. I rarely miss him in the big picture sense most people talk about when grief is raw and new. I don't sit and think about how I miss him. I don't wish he was there to walk me down the aisle when I get married some day (because that was never the plan). I miss my dad when I think of the things I experience that I wish I could share with him. The Star Trek movies, now Star Wars, even Bond movies, the return of sci fi to tv, and especially the Marvel comic book movies. But also social events. My dad would have been all over Facebook. He would have had a thousand friends, it would have been embarrassing. I wish he had seen Barack Obama become president, he would have loved that.
But mostly I miss my dad when I listen to music, because he died and left me with a taste that matches no one in the world but him. When I get excited about a new band or performance, there's no one I can go to who will geek out quite like I do about the classic rock reference mixed with the classical music sampling. I just wish I could talk to him about it.
So I do. A few months ago it went like this.
Dad, you really have to hear these guys. Now I know, you're not into punk rock, but this is different. These guys actually know how to play their instruments, I promise. And their singer can sing! They were all emo and annoying but they went on hiatus and came back really good. But you have to hear the song where they sample Shostakovich. And the one with Elton John. And the one with the Meatloaf reference. Plus they ran over Kentucky's marriage protection law with a tank, and I know you'd love that.
And I remember how my dad was, so it's like I can feel the reaction. I can see him going to the store and buying the best of the Ramones and the Sex Pistols, because if we were going to like punk we were going to do it from the beginning, dang it. And Dad never got into something by halves, he had to jump in with both feet like the giant nerd he was. Dad playing air drums on to "Jet Pack Blues" because despite the fact that he actually played the guitar I mostly remember him playing the air drums. Dad buying a fedora and putting it on the back of his GIANT head and going as Patrick Stump for Halloween. Dad generally wholeheartedly supporting whatever it was I was excited about.
Thinking these things makes me feel the presence of my dad even though he isn't here anymore. The kind of sad I feel is a welcome one, I spent so long unable to remember the good of my dad before his illness took him away from me. Missing him feels good because it means I remember him. Which brings me to the only profound thought I have about grief to share, which is actually a quote from the tv show Castle.
"One day you wake up and you find you don't mind carrying it with you. At least that's as far as I've come." Will Beall
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go listen to Fall Out Boy and think about my dad.
This is the tenth anniversary of my father's death. Which was ten years after his father died. So I've always felt this was a significant one. It's also come with revelations that as of the next decade anniversary I will have spent more of my life without my father than I have with him. How time passes.
But I don't really have anything profound to share on that. The biggest thing I learned from dad's death is that death and grieving are as unique as people are, so while we may all do a lot of the same things absolutely no one has the same experience as anyone else.
What I do want to talk about is missing my dad. I rarely miss him in the big picture sense most people talk about when grief is raw and new. I don't sit and think about how I miss him. I don't wish he was there to walk me down the aisle when I get married some day (because that was never the plan). I miss my dad when I think of the things I experience that I wish I could share with him. The Star Trek movies, now Star Wars, even Bond movies, the return of sci fi to tv, and especially the Marvel comic book movies. But also social events. My dad would have been all over Facebook. He would have had a thousand friends, it would have been embarrassing. I wish he had seen Barack Obama become president, he would have loved that.
But mostly I miss my dad when I listen to music, because he died and left me with a taste that matches no one in the world but him. When I get excited about a new band or performance, there's no one I can go to who will geek out quite like I do about the classic rock reference mixed with the classical music sampling. I just wish I could talk to him about it.
So I do. A few months ago it went like this.
Dad, you really have to hear these guys. Now I know, you're not into punk rock, but this is different. These guys actually know how to play their instruments, I promise. And their singer can sing! They were all emo and annoying but they went on hiatus and came back really good. But you have to hear the song where they sample Shostakovich. And the one with Elton John. And the one with the Meatloaf reference. Plus they ran over Kentucky's marriage protection law with a tank, and I know you'd love that.
And I remember how my dad was, so it's like I can feel the reaction. I can see him going to the store and buying the best of the Ramones and the Sex Pistols, because if we were going to like punk we were going to do it from the beginning, dang it. And Dad never got into something by halves, he had to jump in with both feet like the giant nerd he was. Dad playing air drums on to "Jet Pack Blues" because despite the fact that he actually played the guitar I mostly remember him playing the air drums. Dad buying a fedora and putting it on the back of his GIANT head and going as Patrick Stump for Halloween. Dad generally wholeheartedly supporting whatever it was I was excited about.
Thinking these things makes me feel the presence of my dad even though he isn't here anymore. The kind of sad I feel is a welcome one, I spent so long unable to remember the good of my dad before his illness took him away from me. Missing him feels good because it means I remember him. Which brings me to the only profound thought I have about grief to share, which is actually a quote from the tv show Castle.
"One day you wake up and you find you don't mind carrying it with you. At least that's as far as I've come." Will Beall
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go listen to Fall Out Boy and think about my dad.
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