Thinking About Dad
There are times it feels like it happened yesterday– each moment of that horrible day etched into my mind, and then there are times I can hardly remember how it all happened, like it was years ago, not six months. Passage of time, memories, feelings can be so strange sometimes.
I don’t think there ever is an end to grieving. It comes out of nowhere for me- last night it was thinking about the busy two weeks ahead with family things and how this month SHOULD have been so much different had the world not stopped six months ago. I get sad at the weirdest moments, but also find myself laughing or remembering a random memory at odd times too like the other day when I was dusting a family photo and remembered when my Dad would bring Portuguese sweetbread up to college not only for me and my roommates, but also for a local-born Portuguese professor who shares our last name and the college president.
It’s easy for me to ready and arm myself for what I know will be a tough day on Father’s Day. But I’m also trying to be positive and think of it as a day to honor the amazing man my Dad was, as well as to celebrate Q and the great father he is as well. Even as we cleaned out the basement and shed at my parent’s house this past weekend, we all just tried to keep in mind that memories are in our head, not in the objects of life or a house ( ps this NPR piece and this one on the topic of experiences/memories/photos could not have been better timed). We honor him by moving forward in life and trying to lead by his example- by helping others when we can, being kind, etc. Every time I let someone take a left hand turn or let them pull out in front of me in traffic, I think of my Dad– either because he often did this small act of kindness or because he would yell at someone for being slow/silly.
It also makes me happy that a lot of people randomly tell me things about my Dad that make me feel good. The other day the lady who owns a business next to my house told me I was so nice to say hi to her all the time, “just like your Dad did.”
To me, that’s the highest compliment anyone could ever say.
Life By Kristen 