On the 9th Anniversary of my Father’s Death
Flu: day 4, period: day 1. I did not edit this at all, so good luck and have fun?
Thanks for reading <3
A Song For The Road:
I found out my dad was going to die on my first day of College classes. I had just climbed the beast of a hill to the sports fields where the "Welcome Back BBQ" was in full swing. They didn't even let me eat my food before approaching with somber faces, saying I needed to come with them to the office, but don't worry, I'm not in trouble. Awkward small talk until they put my aunt on the phone. They were all staring at me, waiting for my reaction. My aunt talked to me like I was a baby - honestly, looking back, half my shaking was because I was pissed off and insulted that everyone thought I'd crack that easy. Cowards. Death sucks, but it isn't the end.
I remember faking a lot of injuries as a kid, often playing up a real injury to garner more attention. I remember spending a lot of time alone as a child, the youngest of all, watching everyone grow up and leave. I know it is a part of life, but at the occasional family gathering, I can't help but feel sad at the closeness I never got to have as I listen to my older sisters and cousins tell stories about their childhood with my parents. I am jealous that they all got to ask my dad questions when they were 20 and moving into their first apartment, that they got to have an adult relationship with him. His death marked my instant transition into adulthood, my first month of college. The last time I saw him standing was pulling out of the driveway at midnight - the front door doesn't even look the same because of the renovations. Interesting how I shrunk myself to avoid attention. I really thought nobody knew who I was. How silly on a campus of ~500.
I didn't yet understand how, but I knew in that moment, watching my father exhale his last breath, watching my mother shatter, I knew in that moment, I belonged to myself now and to only myself. Nobody was going to take care of me the way they had before. It was really, truly, up to me. The weight of that responsibility buckled me for a while. I escaped into parties and sex and questionable friendships. I spent a long time feeling untethered, like I didn't belong to anyone anymore. (I know, I know! The feminist in me wasn't fully awakened!)
I felt it the moment I returned to campus. That I was now very, very different from the other 18 year old kids on campus. That I would never fit in with a group if I was completely authentic. (Joke was on me. I didn't fit in with a group anyway. I was always #6 when there were 5 seats in a car. Eventually, I just made my own plans, and I was always busy anyway. After graduation someone told me they had always wanted to invite me to hang out with them, but they didn't want to hang out with my friend. I don't think I missed anything here.) Questions of "Who are you?" and "Whoa, where have you been?" were met with, "Family emergency. It was taken care of." How do you tell a bunch of people you've just met, and desperately want approval from, that you are broken beyond comprehension and you just lost your favorite person? How do you out yourself as a HUGE Daddy's Girl on day 1? If me now could go back in time, I'd give much less of a fuck and grieve much more openly. Attention be damned.
I never belonged to my parents, I belong to me. My dad's passing is still the worst thing to happen in my life, but it doesn't debilitate me anymore. I loved my dad, I wanted to make him proud, I wanted to be perfect and never make mistakes to show my parents just how good they did raising us, or at least me. Now that I belong to myself, I am free. I make mistakes on the daily, and most of the time I don't even beat myself up for it.
Dad’s Birthday at 357 Water St, with a wildly decorated cake, I’m sure. It was my yearly birthday present to him.
