It’s a grey Monday. My father’s been dead for 20 years. What an unimaginable thing. “Fortunately”, I don’t have to imagine it. It’s my reality.
Every year I think about this less than I ought to. It still hits at random moments – overwhelming. Usually in moments where I wish he was there to give advice, an opinion, or to understand how cool something is – something that most of my friends just don’t grasp or don’t care about.
Or when another friend dies of cancer. I think about him then.
In a world that seems to be celebrating cruelty, where the President of the United States mocks and belittles from his, now literal, bully pulpit – it seems absurd that cancer is still so outstandingly awful. You’d think we’d only get around to making one another’s Lives harder once we’d conquered all the stuff that we DON’T bring upon ourselves, but for even longer than I’ve been Living without my Dad, I’ve been Living WITH other people, and I should know better.
I AM small-minded and bitter. I’m angry and jealous. I’ve got all those petty feelings roiling around inside me, making me dark. I struggle with them but I’d LIKE to think I spend most of my time above them. I show off and I’m arrogant, but I also pull UP and drag people forward. I want to see my friends and others do well. And I think people actually like me more when I’m NOT an asshole despite the evidence that meanness can draw people around me too.
Is that why I am who I am? To get people to like me? Well, if “I” count as “people”, yeah. I want ME to like me. It’s a hard task some days. But I keep working on it.
Fifty’s not enough. But somedays I could imagine that 60 will be. Of course, when I was 20 I thought 10 more years was more than enough. It’s probably never enough. We’ll wait and see.
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