I sat down with my laptop today and had every intention of posting about my Voices Of The Year experience and sharing the stage with Queen Latifah (seriously) and when I glanced at iCal, I noticed that Jul 30 was staring back at me.
I have been so busy, I haven’t really given it any thought. My dad died eight years ago today from pancreatic cancer and July 30th makes me feel like I’m being suffocated.
It’s silly if you think about it, I mean, he’s dead the other 364 days of the year too. But the date projects me right back to that day in hospice where I held his hand and watched my father take his last breath.
You know, I didn’t cry that day and to this day, that makes me feel really fucking guilty. When my mother came into the room and saw that he was gone, she cried in such a way that is forever burned into my brain and I wish I could forget.
I didn’t cry when four year old Zoe walked over to the bed and laid a flower on her grandfather’s lap.
He had just turned 57, only 20 years older than my sister and I are right now.
And what I’m trying to say is I really, really miss my Dad.36 comments »