It's been on my mind of course, more this month than any of the others. The picture above was taken by Mary, my stepmom. It was my birthday the day this photo was taken, and we'd all dressed up and gone out to see those Chinese acrobats who spin plates on sticks and bend their bodies like pretzels while balanced on tiny platforms. It was a great night. My sister Momi, who is on the right, was making fancy purses at the time and we were trying out a few. My dad was a character, a friend to many, and he had a great sense of humor that came and went and came and went.
Today I found a note from 1999 I'd left myself where I wrote four words that descibed each of my family members. Seven years prior to my dad passing away from a sudden stroke - I'd listed these words: Surprising. Financially Dependable. Funny. True. I did not list him as: Strong, Maddening or Grouchy - all words which would have been accurate. Sadly, I did not list him either as: Inspiring, Emotionally Dependable, or a Hero - all which any kid would want to list in describing their father.
After he died, it took me a while to go through his belongings. Many things I still need to go through, but have left them in our house in Halawa because I don't want to categorize him away. I find a small comfort in knowing his things are there at the address where he lived for almost forty years. In going through the deluge of papers in his termite eaten roll top desk, there were things about my dad that I learned which surprised me. Like court records and letters to the judge showing to me his heartbreaking struggle (and his anger) at losing my sister and I to our mother after the divorce when we were 4 and 9. Also found were ALL of the cards, drawings and letters my sister and I had EVER sent him in the thirty odd years while Momi and I were shuttling back and forth between two parents.
There was always a mystery about him and I accused him of being an alien when I was a teenager. When he was left by his girlfriend of ten years, he just stopped talking about her and I was left to figure it out. He also remarried and didn't tell my sister or me, a big no-no for all you parents out there. My dad wasn't very good at remembering or celebrating birthdays either and once I got a birthday box filled with a used frying pan and some old mail. I took it as at least he was thinking of me and so I appreciated the effort. He really wanted me to become a detective or a lawyer or something other than whatever I was (a graphic designer) and even gave my number to an FBI recruiter who called me at work one day.
The year before he died, when I was established in my career and he had been positively affected by his outgoing second wife, he became a joy. He was still grouchy and forgetful at times, but he was slowly becoming those words I'd neglected to describe him as. Like in any Shakespearean tragedy, it was just before the death - the personal connection finally made which in turn makes the loss SO much harder. I can only guess now that he'd be proud and happy for my sister and I as we move into new territories of our lives. He could be the inspiring, emotionally dependable dad to us and our children (who don't yet exist) and maybe even a little bit of a hero too. I'd take anything at this point.
I miss him so.