Grief Doesn't Have An Expiration Date
Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father dying. Thirty-three years now. I still think about him all the time. That will never stop. Apparently neither will the sadness of his loss.
My dad was only 57 when he died. I have some friends with parents in their 80's and 90's. I see pictures of their family gatherings. I'm thrilled for them but jealous because our family didn't get those same opportunities.
But that's life and sometimes life just sucks.
It could be worse. I also know people who have lost parents while they were in high school and earlier. They have a hard time dealing with that. Big time separation issues. I'm saddened by their pain and thankful I got 30 years with my dad.
Still selfishly, I want more and now more than ever.
The grief and pain comes when I look at my daughters. He would have loved them and spoiled them so much. I'm so sorry they never got a chance to meet and have a relationship.
I'm sure my siblings feel this, too. Eight grandchildren and three great grandchildren missing out. Did I mention that sometimes life just sucks?
My parents were an interesting combination. My mother was a character. I can tell a dozen stories about her where you'd say the woman was nuts...and I'd agree.
My dad was a the rock. Very steady. Always there when you needed him. Maybe not happy with what you did but he was always there. He worked his ass off for his family. He loved us deeply...and not just his immediate family.
I have so many cousins that our family tree looks like the IBM org chart. Those were his favorite people and they all loved him, too. He found a way to relate to the family members of both his generation and mine. In the 1960's-70's, that was quite a trick, I've had many relatives tell me that he was their best friend. They talk about him constantly...sometimes a little too much.
He did have his fun and strange side.
He once picked up some cousins, drove to another cousin's home and serenaded them by singing "I'm Henry the 8th".
He once tried to set me up with a lesbian. I was 18. When I asked why, his business partner said, "We thought it would be good for you to get laid before going to college." Ummm....guys, let me explain to you why that isn't going to work. Sigh!
The picture above is of a family event from the mid-70's. I told you I have a big family. We're at the Drake Hotel. It's a fancy place. I'm the hippy looking dude on the bottom right. Long hair, beard, white Good Humor ice cream man suit. I don't do fancy places well.
My dad (far top right corner) says lets go get a beer. I'm good with that. We go down to the hotel bar and sit at the counter. I take off my jacket. The bartender says jackets are required. I'm going to make a statement by walking out of the bar. My dad grabs my shirt.
Put on your fucking jacket! Sit the fuck down! Drink your fucking beer!!
Yes sir! Yes sir! I saved my statement making for another day.
So we mark another year of my father being gone. I'm a little sadder and more introspective about this than normal. I've spent a few therapy sessions talking about this. It helps...some.
Two of his grandchildren will be getting married this summer, including my youngest daughter. He would have loved to be there and celebrate. It's a damn shame he won't be. Have I mentioned life is unfair?
A few friends have lost parents in the last year. You can feel their pain and anguish. They wonder when it will get better.
I wish I could help by telling them soon but there really isn't an expiration date on grief.
If you think my mother wasn't a nutty character, here's the story I wrote about her last year, on her birthday
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