The One About How I Miss My Dad and the Good Things Left Behind

I can't believe it's been a year since we lost my dad to cancer. It seems like only yesterday that my brother called me at work and said I needed to come to care home where my dad was NOW, not after work as I'd planned. And I went and I held Dad's hand and Mom's hand and I hugged my brother and I told my dad how much I loved him and at least once early in the day he was able to tell me he loved me, too, and though it wasn't clear I know that's what he said.

That was for me. I'm not assuming you guys are crying or anything and if you are I'm sorry and I'll turn it around with some good stuff, at least I hope so.

So, last night I was on the way home from the hospital because my mom's in the hospital because either the universe has a HILARIOUS sense of humor or a really SUPER FUCKED UP sense of humor or you know, life is just nuts and shit like that, and the story of her being in the hospital is another story for another blog and not for today. But anyway. I was on the way home and I decided to have a conversation with my dad.

Yes, like, me in my car, in the dark, talking out loud to my dad who died a year ago. Because here is the thing, and this is what I told him in this conversation, I don't know how all of this works. So I figure what the heck, I told him I loved him and I missed him and if he has any pull with ANYONE who has any control over ANYTHING though I tend to believe all of life is just luck, good or rotten or in-between, but again, what if I'm wrong about that, so I'm like obviously go ahead and pull some strings about Mom so everything goes all smoothly with her and all that. That would be great.

And then I cried like a big fat crybaby bitch all the way to my brother's house to pick up my daughter.

What I have found, when you have a kid, and you are trying to hold it together for the most part around her, because hey, she's a kid, and she should get to be a kid as much as she can and not be worried or worried about her mommy etc. So I have found that the car is for crying. The car is also good for screaming if you need to do that. Roll up the windows first, but then scream your fucking head off if you need to, and in this past year, I have found times that I need to scream my fucking head off.

So I'm thinking I got that sobfest out of the way. So I am planning today when Dad crosses my mind (which will be a lot) to think about what he leaves behind, and not in the sad way, but in the good way.

one of my faves

my baby, my stupid cat, and my baby's Pop Pop



The things that come up in conversation that I call "JohnMoore-isms." Stuff that Dad would have said in response to certain situations. Loud SIGHS he would have made when he's like, what can I even say to that, or the look that he would get on his face. I look at my kid and her amazing  little brain and I'm like, damn, she's hella smart. Like Dad smart. The man was brilliant. And it's like, my brother and I wouldn't be here and wouldn't be us if it weren't for my dad and we're kind okay as far as humans go.

And then we have our wonderful fabulous precious beautiful children. And all of us loved my dad and he loved us and it's like, at the end of the day, when your number is up, and mothereffer, that is going to happen to all of us, like it or not, it's what's left here when your number up. It's who you loved and who remembers you and who walks around with a part of you inside of them.

my baby and my little brother's baby

That's what it's all about.

And Dad, if you have Internet wherever you are, like I already told you, I miss the hell out of you and I wish you were still here and I'm pissed that you're not but I'm grateful for all the pieces of you that are still here.