Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my father's death. And I still can't believe he's gone. As the day approached, I found myself getting weepy over reminders, memories. As I type, my family is gathered in Atlanta at a Mass being said in his memory at the old family church. The months leading to his death were so torturous for him, and for us. I still find it so hard to make any sense of it.

We have come a million miles since that day a year ago, too. The family home is gone, lingering memories in the form of things all around me in boxes now. Mom is living alone in a tiny apartment. The Lincoln is gone, replaced by a car my mother can drive. The mint, so abundant in the garden patch near their old back door, is mowed to the ground, and my efforts to propogate some of it at my own house here ended in dismal failure. That just fits in with the rest of the sadness.

We have come a million miles since that day a year ago, but today I am right back there. I don't know what else to say except he's gone. He's gone, and I can't believe it, and I miss him more than I ever imagined possible.

So many of my favorite pictures of my father were left back at my house when I came here last week. Still, we had a metric ton of photos I'd bagged up from my parents' house a few weeks back. From those, we picked and scanned some of our favorites, and from those, I hurriedly put together a memorial video for my father's wake. It's imperfect, and I'd hoped to have time to smooth out the rough edges, replace the grainy pictures, make the sound fade at the end...but everything seemed to happen so fast. It is what it is. There's so much to say, and little of it I have the presence of mind to sit down and write. For now, the video:

Even in his death, my father manages to distinguish himself. His obituary was singled out from those published today, and he will be the subject of an expanded obituary story in the Wednesday paper. It's already online here. We gathered around his body tonight at his wake, my siblings and my mother and I, and we all had a good laugh over this. It's just....so "Dad."

Thanks again for all the expressions of caring and support, here and in email. I'll be back in a few.

Yeah.

My father was awake and alert enough to make his own decision about surgery today. His decision: no surgery, no life support, no resuscitation. Palliative care only. ( Read more... )