Saturday, September 29, 2018
I sit here on Saturday afternoon, typing words, signing papers and making phone calls. Were this any other Saturday, we would be making a late lunch right about now- me probably still in my boxer shorts, the two of us talking about whatever new rock album was coming out, or news article you just read, or even just the variation in trim between two model years of some old automotive we happened to spot on television as I flipped up some of those grilled cheese sandwiches you loved so much. Everywhere I look I'm reminded of you- not just the material things you and I owned, but the memories of using them or even just the conversations we had nearby, the laughter, the tears, and everything in between. The smell of that green aftershave you always wore, whose name I either can't remember or don't want to. Your famous baseball caps, still hanging on the back of the door with their fishing-hook attachments and various pins glistening in the midday sun. The model kits we were saving for a rainy day to finish building together, one of which lies front and center half-completed on your desk atop innumerable sketchbooks, reference guides, and construction paper reams, its tiny plastic knick-knacks and doodads surrounded by tweezers, flashlights, and other tools of the trade.
I still don't believe it myself and don't think I'll be able to for quite some time, at least not entirely. I'm surrounded by family and friends doing their best to help everyone get through this- not just myself but their own families and acquaintances and everyone else who knew you. People I've never met and sometimes never even heard of, coming from all reaches in this trying time. You taught me so much, but there was so much left for me to learn and so much left for us to do. I love you with all my heart- even if I had trouble saying it- and loved every minute we had together, even if we butted heads, as you liked to say. You were so, so much more than my father, you were the best damn friend I've ever had and ever will have. It was us against the world, hell or high-water to anyone and anything in the way. My hands are shaking, my throat is tight (and for once, it isn't from the early-autumn goldenrod that causes me so much trouble each year), and there's more phone calls to be made, more papers to write- including one big one for two days from now that I don't want to quite look at yet, and may well just lift some parts of from here, but right now I think I need a break.
It's a beautiful day outside- the kind that makes you want to grab your camera, hop in your car, pick a direction and wander. I just wish you were here with me to enjoy it.
