Remembering My Dad

My father died 8 years ago today. Cancer. He was diagnosed in April 2009 and died in July 2009. I was in Chicago with Jon when he was diagnosed (turns out my body's reaction to stress like this is to vomit. I saw a lot of bathrooms in Chicago!). I know where I was and who I was with when my mother called me to tell me that he died.

I remember the viewing. We have a rather morbid tradition of going bowling after viewings. We went bowling. I'm awful, but you can drink there! Plus, after a full day of repeating the same information about yourself ("I'm Blair. I'm the oldest. I graduated from Duquesne last year. I live in Shadyside. I work at Parkway Center."), it's nice to throw a ball at something.

I remember being a pallbearer at the funeral. I still have the white gloves. I don't remember what else I wore. I remember a blur of people. I remember driving from the wake to the church to pick up flowers.

Today always makes me think of all the things he missed. I was living on Ellsworth Avenue, driving the red Neon, and working at CBCInnovis the last time he knew anything about me.

He never met Caleb. He didn't see us move into the condo. He wasn't there when I got engaged. He didn't see me get married.

He doesn't know that I got a tattoo with a windmill on it because he called me Quixote. He doesn't know that I'm still fighting windmills.

There are so many tiny, small things that I still even now sometimes think I should tell him. There are so many things that I will never get to tell him.

You can buy beer and wine at the grocery store now! I eat chili! I make beer (among other things)! I travel on my own now! I'm still afraid of monkeys!

What I tried to take away from it is that you can't wait to do things. So I travel. I wear what are definitely ridiculous outfits. I created an alter ego with her own hashtag. I try whatever I can. I don't want to realize one day that I have a list of things I wanted to do that I'll never get to do.


I wish I had some sort of profound note to end this on. Some life secret. I don't. All I have is this:

None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. We aren't even guaranteed this afternoon. Don't waste it.