10th Anniversary

It's been 10 years since my father died. It's seems like forever. I guess it should, since that means he has been gone for a third of my life. I was only 23 when he died.

July 19 was a Sunday in 2009. I remember that I didn't know what to do, so I went into the work the next day. A coworker was about to transfer a difficult client to me, and I ranted for a bit on the phone. That was out of character for me, so he asked what was wrong. When I told him what happened, he didn't transfer the call over and told me to go the hell home (in a nice "why the hell did you come in?!" kind of way). I don't really know the details, but my manager came over, asked me if it was true, and sent me home. I don't really remember a lot else from around then.

The viewing was exhausting. We did two sessions in one day. I think I had a sandwich or something in the middle? I wish I would have made a sign saying "I'm Blair (the oldest). I graduated from Duquesne. I work in Greentree. I live in Shadyside." I spent more time saying that than anything else. My friends and I have an odd tradition - we go bowling after a family member's viewing. It started with someone else's grandparent and kept going. It's slightly morbid, but you have to do something when you are that numb with grief. Drinking and trying to bowl (it isn't just the drinking - I'm a terrible bowler).

The funeral and the burial were separate because he was cremated. I was a pallbearer at the funeral, and I still have the gloves I wore that day in my dresser (I knew they were there, but I found them again yesterday when putting away laundry). I remember that my mother gave the eulogy and basically nothing else. I don't really remember much about the reception lunch after either (except having a drink from a flask of whiskey).

It becomes a new normal in how you have to answer questions. It's so common when meeting people to ask about family members. If I say that my mother lives where I grew up, the immediate follow up is "Oh, where does your father live?" I inevitably answer that he died and then the other person feels awkward. (Side note: people shouldn't feel awkward! They are common questions, and how would someone even know that?). People my age tend to have experience with great grandparents and grandparents dying, but there are few people who can relate to a deceased parent even now.

There are so many things that my father didn't get to see me do. There is no way to avoid the pain during a life event when you have something this big missing. Even the happiest moments have the twinge of sadness when you think about who is missing.

It also makes you think from a younger age about how none of us are guaranteed anything beyond the present minute. I have tried to make sure that I travel and go see shows and volunteer and do whatever I can to make sure I do the most I can with the time I've given. I don't want to look back and have not something I wanted to do when I had the ability and means to do it.

It's been 10 years. It doesn't get better, but it gets less worse.