I wanted to chronicle my day of remembering my dad on the anniversary of the day he died - March 6, 2012. I hope it will serve as a testimony to others, of the love of a daughter for her father, and her desire to grieve fully and to grieve well.
I had a really hard weekend. For one thing, I was by myself. I think God kind of ordained it that way. Both of my roommates were gone all weekend for one reason or another. Tim was on a ski trip with his company. Christina was in Virginia. Kiara was on an impulsive road trip to Orlando. And Mom and I hadn't talked in a while.
Basically, all of my normal support systems were gone. I was alone in my apartment. And that could have been really good. And Saturday was! I ordered a pizza and watched Parks and Recreation and just spent some good alone time by myself.
Sunday wasn't so great though. I stayed in bed most of the day, and I was just really depressed. So once Monday came along, I was determined to make it a better week. When I say "better," I don't mean happier. I mean more emotionally authentic. And that's what it was.
Tuesday especially was very difficult. It was the last day Daddy spent here on the earth. I was very emotional, and it wasn't easy to sit through classes. I got up and took long breaks, just walking the hallways to clear my head. Most of my professors know what's going on, so they didn't mind too much. Tuesday is my longest day though - 9AM-7:30PM - and I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by the time I got home.
I did have a good part right in the middle of Tuesday though. I have a long break between noon and 4:30, so I decided to go on a walk. The weather on Tuesday was gorgeous, and a friend of mine suggested a good place to go down by the river. It was only a 15 minute walk or so from school, and it was so worth it. I was able to sit on a bench in a courtyard overlooking the river and facing the Brooklyn skyline for about an hour. I journaled ideas for my Marching On Project as I listed to the whir of constant traffic on FDR Drive.
The traffic was comforting. In the city, most of the traffic is very stop-go, and there's a lot of honking and general craziness. But here, it was a highway. Everything was constant; there was no stop-and-go or blaring horns. It reminded me of home.
And the river was beautiful. I've come to realize how much I value being close to water. I think growing up in Jacksonville, the river was just something we took for granted. But the beauty of water has really become a part of my soul.
On Wednesday, I wanted to keep some of the same spirit going. I wanted it to be a day of remembering my father and the man that he was. So I slept in a little bit (I didn't go to class) and then got up and went to what I intended to be brunch at a cute little cafe called Penelope's. It turns out that just as I got there, they were finishing serving breakfast, so I had to get lunch instead. But I wasn't very hungry anyway and just picked at my BLT and French fries. The iced tea was awful (I've given up on Yankee iced tea), but it was nice to just be out of the apartment and by myself, even in the midst of people. I eavesdropped on some conversations and just people-watched. I stayed for an hour, even though I knew they wanted my table. I just didn't want to leave.
But leave, I did. And I took a cab up to St. Patrick's Cathedral. I wanted to spend some time in prayer and light a candle for Daddy at one of the altars. What I forgot, however, was that St. Patrick's is in the middle of a restoration project. So there was literally scaffolding inside the church and construction going on during mass! It was very strange, and it took me a while to get used to it and drown it out. But eventually I was able to tune into God, and I really ended up enjoying my time there.
On the way home I stopped by the library to get a few books (including a John Grisham novel because it made me think of Dad) and the Yankees store that I just happened to pass. Then I grabbed some chips and guacamole from Chipotle (I knew I needed to eat a little something, even if I didn't have a big appetite) before coming home, crawling into bed, and spending a few hours just reading. It was very nice, and I really wish I had had one more day to just be by myself. But alas, it is midterm week. And midterms cannot be ignored, no matter how much one may want to ignore them.
So my day of remembrance was a good one. It ended with some good friends at Cafe Lalo on the Upper West Side, eating tiramisu and discussing the essence of biblical womanhood. I'm where I'm supposed to be, I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and I'm paying attention to what I'm supposed to be paying attention to.
I love you, Daddy. I hope my day brought as much joy to you as it did to me. Thank you for understanding that I'm in pain and for letting me be sad, while at the same time challenging not to despair. You will always be remembered.
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