Anniversaries

Yesterday was the 14th anniversary of the day that my dad died.

It's always an interesting day for me. I either choose to ignore the topic, or end up crying about the 'what ifs' that always follow a death.

My sister always gets very emotional (maybe because she was older?), which can be troubling for me. When I'm trying to ignore an emotion the last thing I want to do is talk about it with someone else. She calls every year and asks me how I'm feeling, if I have any memories in particular. And of course, I do have memories but none that seem 'worthy' of a memorial to my dad, and the developed, caring, involved person that he was. Is a memory of an afternoon spent swimming at the beach a worthy testimony to the great man that my dad was? While my aunts and my nana can talk about my dad's mannerisms and passions and pet peeves...All I can talk about is what he made me for dinner when I used to sleepover at his house, or how he bought me 'Beauty and The Beast' the first day it came out on tape.

It's frustrating to become an adult and have only childish memories about my dad. As I grow up and become more mature in my interactions with people I want to be able to relate to my dad in a more mature way too. I want to be able to talk to him about happiness, and work, and relationships, and life in general.

I want to tell my dad about my trials and tribulations, and about myself as a more complete, adult version. I want my dad to look at me as a young woman, and understand me as a real person. I want my dad to hear stories about my world travels, and meet my friends. I want my dad to come to my college graduation. And I want him to call me on the weekends to catch up and joke with me, or tell me about movies he's seen or plays he's been to.

But I can't do any of that with him, and I can't have any memories of doing that with him either. What I do have are stories and other peoples words about my dad. I have other peoples opinions and speculations regarding what my dad was like. I have yearbooks with messages from students that he taught at Stamford High...pages and pages of teenagers naming him "the best teacher they've ever had."

Sometimes when I'm at home my mom and I run into former students of his. They knew my mom when she was married to him. They'll offer condolences, or share stories about how my dad shaped their lives.

But other peoples' testimonies aren't enough. In a selfish way, I want to know more about my dad AND me. But that book was never written. Those stories never happened. I want to know if we would have gotten along. Or, what his face would look like when he's telling a story. Or even hear him talk about the latest Mets game. I want to know my dad as a person. And I want to know what he would have thought of me. I have my mom telling me that 'we would have really gotten along well...and that he would have been so proud of me.' But opinions aren't enough. As a "journalist" of sorts I know that secondary sources don't make a story.