May 30, 2008

  • 11:10AM. May 30. One year ago today, my father looked at us for the last time breathed his last breath. I'm crying now like I cried then. I miss him so much.

    Yesterday I was walking in Victoria Park, and I saw an old man that for a moment I thought was my dad. He was sitting on a park bench, looking over the water. He wore brown pants, a red jacket, and a large-brimmed tan hat just like my dad's. I had to fight the urge to go over and sit with him. I wanted so badly for it to be my dad.

    Today, more than usual, everything reminds me of him. I brushed my teeth using the electric toothbrush I inherited from him. He had an odd excitement about electric toothbrushes, and had bought one each for me and for Gilly after he tried one for the first time. He used his so much he wore it out, and bought another one with the same amount of product research he would put into buying a computer or a camera.

    Waffles rubbed my legs as I brushed my teeth. When I finished, I picked him up and hugged him, and thought about how much Dad would have loved him. My dad was very much a cat person, and when Puff died we went out the same day to get another cat. Dad was enamoured with a large ginger cat at the Humane Society pound, who looked a fair bit like Waffles. He decided against adopting that cat, only because it was four years old and he couldn't bear the thought of seeing his kids cry over the loss of a pet again any sooner than he had to. A few hours later, we found Teffy through an ad in the newspaper. This morning I also tried to hug Teffy, but she wouldn't let me near her so I had to settle for waving to her from across the room.

    Gilly offered me tea, and although I normally don't bother, today I felt inclined to have some. I would love to sit and have a cup of tea with Dad again. Mom called as we sat down with our tea, to tell us she was thinking about Dad and about us, and to see how we were doing.

    I took Gilly to work as her car is in the shop. I dropped her off and went to Zehrs, and I remembered how much fun it was to go shopping with Dad. Right from when I was a little kid, I enjoyed grocery shopping with him. He would buy us treats and let us ride on the mechanical horse at Mr. Grocer. As an adult, he would obsessively read labels, search for the best prices on everything, and get really excited at a good deal or a new product. I encountered an Instore Focus sample lady in the store, and remembered how much time he spent hanging around my sample table helping me sell my product, all the while eating my samples. I asked the butcher for beef kidney, something Dad always loved, and was truly disappointed that there was none available.

    When I got home, I pulled Dad's giant crock pot out of its box and put six pounds of boneless pork roasts in it. My dad was a wizard with the crock pot, despite his initial reaction when Mom brought one home from the Goodwill store. "What the hell do you do with that?" he said. His attitude quickly changed when I looked up crock pot recipes online and he realised he could make the most awesome meals early in the day and then forget about it for 6 or 8 hours. The crock pot allowed him to indulge his home cooking tradition, but afforded him the relaxation so he didn't feel rushed when he sat down to eat. As I mixed up the sauce for the pulled pork I thought about how he would have disapproved of it due to the high sugar content, and also about how obsessed he was with apple cider vinegar. Now Gilly mocks me for my excessive use of vinegar, but hey, it's tasty, calorie-free, and cleans your bathroom to boot. My dad was a brilliant man!

    I fully expect this reminiscing to continue, not just today but for years to come. There's so much I wish I could have said to my dad, and so much I wish I could have learned from him. I no longer have dreams of him returning with a grin on his face, laughing that we thought he was dead. It's been ages since I dreamt about being at home, in our house, and that everything was as it used to be. Although in many ways I'm much better off now than I have ever been, I still feel like a part of me died with him. Even a whole year later, I have no idea how to deal with that.