In that moment I knew you were gone Dad. The call came, the Uber arrived. I sat staring out the window – the sun about to rise across the bay, raindrops on the windows. There were no “maybes” on my mind as we drove to the hospital, only preparation for the depths of loss as I held onto Kai’s hand. Tightly.
A few days ago my car broke down and I had to go buy a radiator cap. I had to deal with the absolute unhappiness of Kai because the car “is a piece of junk” and nothing like yours. It is in these comparisons of then versus now where you still hold an unfair advantage, even in your death. I detest that there is this gaping hole that I cannot fill, and I’m not even talking about you – because there can be no comparison to you.
The detest is for an interest that you could share. Cars, my kryptonite. These experiences cut deep because what I have to offer is nothing but failure. Failure in the sense that I don’t drive. I don’t have a nice car. Fuck, I can’t even put air in my tyres.
Dad, I wrote what I’ve shared now early in August, and how things have changed!
I persevered, I sorted out the car and I got my driver’s license. I’ve never seen Kai so excited, so proud – an accomplishment that I wish I could share with you. Instead I am content with my license providing me with a bridge to meet Kai where his thoughts are, cars and driving.
Not a day goes by when I am not reminded of you. Your driving skills, your car, your speed, your parking – the way you handled the obnoxious taxies on the road! He never stops talking about you and I don’t want him to.
There’s been nights where we’ve curled up in bed and listened to some songs that pulled us back into the moment of loss. Our tears freely flowing while we speak of you and own our emotions – Kai explaining what it felt like when we went to the hospital that morning. He thought that maybe they moved you to a different bed. He didn’t believe the news until mom started crying.
Your legacy keeps us grounded and your past encounters with others continues to still reflect upon our lives today. The positive impact of your relationship with others has helped me tremendously in so many ways.
Missing you seems like an inadequate way to describe you not being here because I feel your presence more than I do your absence. You seem to flow through my actions, my thoughts and my commitments. I am so grateful for having been raised by you, and for Kai having you as his wingman for almost ten years.
2 thoughts on “Dad, It’s Been A While”
So sorry for your loss dear. I read a post before where you shared the loss of your dad. It’s obvious how you miss him, and I can tell you know he’ll never truly be gone. I’m fortunate mine is still with me, so I can only imagine how deep you feel the absence of your father. But take comfort in the legacy he left behind. You’re blessed to have been able to share many memories with him. Too many today don’t realise how important or vital relationships with our parents and children are. You clearly did, and do. :). And honey, Kai is spot on – don’t be telling people you know nothing about cars. Congrats on the driver’s licence. xxx
Thank you Ferowza. I can always count on Kai to be an endless source of wisdom, and sometimes ridiculous expectations 🙂