My father would have been 83 years old today. I wonder what it would would feel like to have an 83 year old parent at 40. I wonder what he would think of me now?
My sister and I used to laugh hysterically at the horrified reactions when we told people that inflation killed him. I come from a family that laughs; inappropriately; at everything. My father had a fatal heart attack two days after my 12th birthday while doing the grocery shopping. My mom was on call and at home because in those days all you had was a beeper and needed to be near the telephone in case there was an emergency at the hospital. It was the final week of the school year and my dad took my sister and me to get food for our respective end of year parties. He collapsed somewhere between the chips and flour and by the time I stopped screaming he was dead. In later years we would tell people that he took one look at the prices and, well here I am wondering about that 83 year old.
I remember little about the 12 years and 1 day that we spent together. Unlike many I have almost no memories at all before my father died, reasons for which shall be left to another blog post. It's like he didn't exist at all and what I do remember are because of a photo or something my mother told me. Essentially I grew up in a single parent household though those that know me well could argue even that point. But for all the craziness of my life, I am OK with this fact. I often say that given the choice I would have things no different. I say this from a spiritual belief that it was agreed to contractually in an earlier existence (yet more to be left to another blog post) and from a place of acceptance that this specific incident shaped me into the person that I am today.
I often wonder though what he would think of the choices I have made, my successes and failings. What kind of relationship would we have had? What would he think of cell phones and the internet? He loved Hill Street Blues, what would he like today? He grew up with Boxers and introduced me to my first of 5. Would he still be married to my mother?
I like to think that despite not truly knowing him these thoughts still connect me to him and through me a piece of him still exists. One would agree just by looking at his photos.
Happy Birthday Iosy (Joss); wherever you are.
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| The two photos behind my dad hang in my office today! |
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