The Death of a Parent

[I began  writing this post on January 6th, 2012]

To a certain extent, I've been avoiding my friends IRL, and I've been avoiding you, my internet friends, too. I've been avoiding writing this blog entry. Some things are hard to think,  harder to speak, and (apparently) even harder to write...

My dad passed away last month. He died on December 13th at almost exactly eight in the morning. I was with him, had been with him since three a.m. when the night nurse called and told me I should come back to the hospital.

As many of you know, he's been living with us for the last two years. He was an integral part of our family and now there's a big hole in our daily life.

Everything I want to write sounds trite and trivial and unimportant.He was a great person, a terrific dad, and one of the good guys. I miss him--we all miss him--but now life goes on--Katie goes to the Christmas Ball and plays varsity basketball, Joel is at college and getting so darned grown up, and Jenny is 5'1" and almost a teenager and in the school play and playing loads of basketball... I'm back out in the studio, and the dogs have to find someone else to snuggle with.

I miss him every day. I start to think, "I have to remember to tell Dad about that," and then I realize that he's gone. And I know that eventually, gradually, that sense of loss will get easier to handle. I share my memories with the kids, because I want them to know that grief is okay, and that sharing it is important. I want to talk about him because it helps me--it helps all of us--and going on is what we do. It's what we have to do. There's no other option. But wow. Is it ever hard.