Monday, March 3, 2014

Christmas not too bad missing dad (Temporary title that I could not change)

This was my first Christmas without my father. Both my sisters were in town, there was in town sister and my New York City sister flew in from the east coast.  Everyone making the effort to come here to the sick room literally caused me to tear up.  All three of us are not in the same place at the same time very often.  I don't often admit/say this, it was nice to have my sisters around.  It helped fill the absence created by my father.  It was melancholy not having my father there to see and made all the sadder by the fact that his kids did not argue.  My dad always wanted us kids to argue once he was dead.

I probably will end up moving to a lower elevation.  I have been postponing it and will postpone it as long as possible.  It is hard to leave friends and family and it is hard to choose between a few more healthier years and the ambiguous quality of life.  Blah blah blah, you get the idea.  When I move I will be farther away from my sisters than ever before and combined with my ability to travel dwindling; The point is this might be the last Christmas or any holiday where all three of us will be together.  It was melancholy that it was the last holiday for us siblings together.

I wrote the preceding two paragraphs the week of Christmas 2013 and every time I came to finish this post I would read the first sentence and say to myself I will finish it later.  It is now March as I am "finishing" this post and I might have come to terms with the fact that the temporary title which indicates that is not too bad missing bad was in fact a lie and I have not finished this post because I do miss my dad and I miss him badly.

I purchased a nice urn for my dad to hang out in.  The urn sits under a piano bench and has not been displayed coming up on a year now.  There are pictures of my dad that I have had framed but they have not made it up either.  My autograph photo of Kate Mulgrew/Katherine Janeway has made it up.  Even a blind man could see the pattern at this point.  I miss my dad, everyday I hope he calls to tell me that he has another virus on his computer and I hate to get those calls.