A Year Later

It is hard to believe it has been a year since my dad passed away. Little by little it has sunk in that he is not around anymore. I remember thinking to call him to ask him a question a few weeks after he was gone and being dumbstruck that he was not going to be there to answer. Instead, now I wish I had paid a little more attention to all the knowledge that he had. Asked more questions. Been more patient. I think even though we knew he had cancer, and we knew the inevitable ending, we all lived a little in denial. I always thought I would have a little more time, another chance to learn what he knew. But I was wrong, and there were only so many chances.

Last June we knew my father would not make it another year, and my sister and I had the same struggle to buy our father a father's day card. What should his last father's day card say? Mary called one of her friends who had also lost a parent and asked, "Why didn't you tell me all the lasts will be so hard?" And the response she got was, "All the lasts are really hard. And then once he's gone, all the firsts are going to be really hard too." (The card I gave was blank inside and I just wrote, "I love you, Dad.")

So it was true. My first birthday without my dad. Our first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's. And the hardest of all, his birthday without him. Leo is always there with us. We still make sure we have the foods he loved, and tell stories about our favorite holidays with him. And we pick on my mom to try and make her as flustered as he did ;)

The days go on, we keep living. We survived all the lasts, and now we have been through most of the firsts without my dad. It makes it easier to think of him with the rest of our family, all together and having a big party. I know that he suffered, and that he did not like how weak he had become, how forgetful he was, and how confused he could get. The chemo took its toll on him, and how he was in those last months is not how he would want to be remembered. Instead I remember the big guy who came to all my soccer and hockey games, who drove 4 hours to watch my first crew regatta and after the race was over (a full 45 seconds of rowing) said, "That was it??" (We lost, btw). The man who could throw back a few drinks, and had a few great dance moves. The man who drove big trucks, who could operate a backhoe like no one's business, and who remembered every septic tank he installed. The man who loved each of his kids and was proud of everything they had done. That was my dad.

Oh Dear Barbara!

It's been a less than fabulous week here at the Moore homestead. Monday night one of our chickens was taken, we think by a fox. I was awakened by this screeching noise, at first I thought it was the cat, then I realized it was one of the chickens. There was just a pile of feathers, and a trail leading into the woods. It was our darling Babs, the leader of the two. Now poor sad Gertrude is all alone, and we need to find her some chicken friends. The lady I got them from only has boys to give away, and I'm not certain we need a rooster around here. But polish roosters are hilarious looking, and that could be reason enough to get one. And they try to protect their ladies, so I think we'll get one rooster. Even still, I think she's going to need a couple of girlfriends. And I need to pick out the best rooster name ever.

Then the next day, our betta fish, Oscar, passed away. We've had Oscar for about a year, and he'd been acting like the end was near, so it was not entirely a surprise. It was, however, still a big bummer to have two of our pets die within 24 hours of each other.

The good news is the dogs, the cat, and the other fish all seem to be doing very well!

Here's a pic of Barbara the Polish Chicken, to remember her by:

I've been avoiding posting for a few weeks because, well, my dad died. And I thought I had to write something profound and heartfelt to show how wonderful he was and how much I loved him. But I was heartbroken and couldn't find the words.

Then I had too many words. They all came jumbled inside, and I had to get all of them out, but it made no sense and because the world's longest run on sentence.

So here's what you need to know: I love my dad. Though he was sick for a long time, and I truly recognize that he's in a better place and not suffering anymore, I still wasn't ready to not have a dad anymore. Most days I get through the day just fine, and then it will hit me that he's not here anymore.

There doesn't have to be just one post about my dad, there can be many. I have thirty years of memories of him, I can't get them all out at once. I think that's how it should be. Someday, I will tell you all about his last days, because they were actually quite wonderful. Right now it's all a little raw, but now it's out there, and I can move on ever so slightly, a little bit at a time.