My Dad

My dad died 4 1/2 months ago. He was pretty sick for the last few years and for at least the last year didn't really know who I was. So I think I had pretty much said goodbye to him before he died. But something happened to me when he died. Even though I thought I had dealt with the loss already, I clearly was not ready (is anyone ever) for his death. Mostly I cry when I listen to music that reminds me of him. My dad LOVED music. Really loved music. When I was little we would dance around the house to Greek or Russian music with me on his feet. He taught me how to waltz. He taught me how to love harmonies. For years his gift requests from me would be lists of songs that were often quite obscure. I would scour various internet sources and make him CDs. For Father's Day one year we made him a Greek Feast for dinner and gave him a copy of the Zorba the Greek CD. He was overjoyed. He absolutely loved Simon and Garfunkel (and later Paul Simon's solo work). When we listened to "Cecelia" he always had commentary. When Paul says he came back to bed and someone had taken his place, my dad would always say, "man that's cold." I can't help but laugh when I hear that song and remember him saying that. At his funeral we had a quartet sing "Bridge Over Troubled Waters," which made me cry more than just about anything else. Sometimes when I'm driving, listening to music, I'll just start bawling. I think about everything my dad has missed, everything he will miss, everything I will miss with him, and everything my kids will miss not growing up with him as their grandfather. Tonight we went to dinner with the family for my neice's 8th grade graduation. For some reason, my dad was really on my mind. I was thinking about how proud he would have been. He would have had a smile that wouldn't fade. I was thinking of my boys running around (kind of crazy), and how he would probably put them in his lap, bounce them, and sing to them. He loved to do that with Owen when he was a baby. And I can remember him doing that with other kids, younger cousins and such. I think he would have been a wonderful grandfather to my boys. He would have doted on them (as he did with Owen when he was born). They would have adored him. I wish I could see that. He told Erik once that Erik was such a better dad than he ever was. He complimented him for being so hands-on and involved with our boys. While I do believe Erik is a wonderful dad, I had to tell him how wrong he was. He was the best dad. I can't even imagine a more loving, thoughtful, caring human being. He would literally give you the shirt off his back, all the while teaching you how important it is to be able to support yourself. He never once made me feel like he wasn't proud of me or wished I had made different choices (although he most likely did because I did some pretty stupid things). I just wish he was still here, able to enjoy his family, and we were able to enjoy him.