Thursday, January 04, 2024

I'll fly away

two years.

they say that time heals, and in many ways it has, but in some ways, it hasn't. he's still here, following me everywhere in a way I never felt while he was alive, like some sort of omnipresent vacuum.

I am aware of my human weakness when it comes to making up memories, subconsciously adding a little detail to moments that may have been blurred by the passage of time and distorted by the strange way the human mind works. but I know there's something that rings true with every memory. that marvellous man, my beloved father. a man who, despite obvious shortcomings and failings, I still maintain was the best person to have walked this earth.

just the other day, we were discussing what dad would have had to say if he was present at that moment. the moment was something mundane, possibly me breaking the garlic press in an attempt to disassemble it. it's easy to imagine something logical, sensible, brilliant. or maybe something witty and irreverent. and I know, it's also equally (or maybe even far more) likely he'd have said something extremely mundane - maybe one of his favourite tropes/quips. but to predict what dad would have said is futile. every fantasy of being reunited with him in some sort of weird predicted interaction would fall short.

but that's all I have now. thoughts, memories and my imagination. 

I know that sitting on my couch, typing a blog post when I should be sleeping would elicit a gentle nudge from him to go to bed, to remind me that I have work tomorrow. he cared for me in a way I've never felt anyone care for me... in a way that was both protective and freeing. and that's what I remember best about dad. he was only human, in a way that made "only human" something to aspire to. he made the imperfect feel right.

everything feels imperfect right now. but I know this is the sort of moment that dad would meet with calm acceptance. with making the best of the moment, even if it looks like I'm failing miserably and everything's lost. 

I just realized I have never ever, ever, ever, absolutely ever, seen dad give up.

good night. please come to me in my dreams. I miss your hugs.

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