America, December 18, 2004
A year later, the pain is still there.
Its been a year since you left us. Year since I felt your touch, heard your voice. A year. 365 days that have not passed without me thinking of you. Or, actually thinking of your death. More than any other, your passing reminds me that my own life is limited. That I too will die one day. That this amazing life is just a moment, if that, in time. I am year older, Dad, but still scared.
White-knuckle, cold-sweat, heartbeat-skipping scared of death.
I love life, really I do. I remember once having a 'what would change if you could' conversation on a date, and I couldn't think of anything I really wanted to change. Nothing that mattered anyway. What can I say? I work hard to be happy.
Amazingly hard, as my friends can attest. I am always on the go, 18 hours a day on the go. Never stopping, never stilling, never wasting a second. You wanna know why? Cuz I am so scared that I will miss something that a moment will pass that I don't savor. I see death coming and I wanna get as much in this life as I can.
Your death only propelled me harder to enjoy every second. 2004, damn, this is a year of good times and fun living. Did you see my post last week, where my housemate found me passed out in a laundry bin? Yeah, I know you'd laugh at that one. I know you'd be quick to top that story with one of your own drunk-a-thons. You just might have lived even higher a life than my own.
At 31 weren't you bouncing your young son on a knee in Fiji? With a hottie wife proud to be by your side? Can't say I have either of those. I do have other prides, other successes, so I feel good about my progress.
And now I am finally feeling good about my progress on your passing. Today I slept till 2pm. Lazily snoring a beautiful Saturday away. What once would've racked me with guilt, so much daylight wasted, I let pass. Then I remembered the date and thought about you. I re-read my posts on your passing.
Yes, I still cry. I still can't read any of it without breaking down, unable to read through the tears. I still miss you dad, every day. Now I'm gonna wipe away the tears and call Mom. We, the living, gotta keep on going.
I love you Dad.