A Tribute to My Dad

This blog has been rather undercover, but I'm afraid with this post, I'm going public - because this is the kind of post that is written, therapeutically, for public consumption, as they say. My blog is now out of the bag.

Today has been an absolutely wretched day. I didn't figure out why until after lunch, when I realized it was my dad's birthday. Once I realized why I kept bursting into tears, I have cried pretty much solid ever since. I've tried everything to avoid dealing with it - made phone calls, gone shopping, played Angry Birds, cleaned, but the grief has chased me down. It seems very odd to me, because this is the twentieth birthday my father has NOT celebrated. Yes, he has been gone twenty years, and I am still crying. Which made me wonder - it's not like this every year. WHY is it like this THIS year? And as I've analyzed it, I realize there are several reasons:

1. This is the first year I've actually had to deal with the fact that I am a 41-year old orphan. Both my parents are gone. This is odd, indeed. In addition, my sister is gone. And my aunt. Pretty much, the adult blood-relatives who really knew my dad are gone.
2.This leaves me with the burden of being the memory-bearer. When we lose someone, we say, "but their memory lives on" and it does. We have the privilege of our memories, and of sharing our memories with others who knew our loved one. But right now, I AM the memory-bearer.

And that feels like a heavy, heavy burden. So, in the spirit of bearing those memories, I think I need to share them. Because although it's been 20 years, I love my dad. and I miss my dad, and I remember my dad.

I remember, in no particular order:

• the way he called me Miscilla
• he never owned a pair of jeans
• or a pair of sneakers
• so he mowed the grass in athletic shorts, dark socks and Hush Puppies
• all his pants were polyester. Even when it wasn't in style
• my mother made him buy a pink suit. And he wore it.
•  he was the most organized, disorganized person I've ever known - don't mess with the 20 piles of papers on the floor of his office!
• the way his gigantic key ring jangled so you could hear him coming from a mile away
• that he was the best piano player I've ever heard. The only person I know who comes close to playing with the kind of power my dad did is Michael Yuen, and I love to hear him play.
• and he was the best sight-reader EVER. He practiced almost nothing, but could play almost anything.
• we spent hours playing music together - he would spoil me by buying me music, and then he would accompany me on random Sunday afternoons while I played viola. Or sang. But playing viola was my favorite. (And this is why I love to sight-read, lol)
• I was always amazed when I watched him play the organ. Feet? And hands? And so many stops? It was a lot for a five-year old to take in.
• He had a piano-playing face - he always dropped his jaw when he played the piano.
• he loved Chinese food, and whenever my mother went out of town, we went out for Chinese, 'cause she hated it.
• And he loved Mexican, 'cause he had a Mexican housekeeper. and he loved avocados and orange juice and orange juice and sprite.
• he had no idea how to dish a small bowl of ice cream.
• he NEVER cooked. (Was outlawed from the kitchen after a pancake-making debacle.)
• he always wanted to take me hiking in Yosemite, but we never got there
• he was an amazing calligrapher
• but honestly, no one could read his handwriting. (I can't believe I actually said that.)
• he outlawed ballpoint pens in our house - they're too hard to control and make writing illegible - felt tip pens or fountain pens only.
• there was no contemporary music in our house. Classical only. Or show-tunes. Though I finally got him to listen to Howard Jones. Funny.
• he was principled to a fault
• I mean, really, how many people start a private school because they don't want to put their child through the school system?
• he was a complete workaholic, but that doesn't mean I don't have great memories.
• in fact, he would make a beeline to his office, toothbrush in his mouth, so he didn't waste his toothbrushing time. 

Perhaps that's enough random memories. Thanks for letting me spew at any of you who were brave enough to hang in this long. Hang on to the memories of those you hold close to your heart, and be sure to intentionally create memories along the way!