“To forget would be not only dangerous but offensive; to forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.”
“I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.”
Things about other-parent are revealed:
Before:
“why are there dishtowels in the sink?”
“That’s your father. There are 3, too. Right? There are always three.”
“yep.”
After:
“There are three dishtowels in the sink. I’m on to you.”
It is possible to live in the same house for 30+ years and not know where the extension cords are kept and when the person who does know is no longer there you are going to come home, realize your mother’s idea of “efficient” is to have to lay on her stomach under the Christmas tree in order to plug in the lights, and then you are going to spend a really ridiculous amount of time searching a not very big house for an extension cord.
Seriously.
WHERE ARE THE FUCKING EXTENSION CORDS I KNOW THEY ARE HERE SOMEWHERE.
It’s like I can hear him giggling.
You’re going to forget. Twelve times a day you are going to forget and you are going to think things like “He’ll think this is funny I should call —- (get punched in stomach by reality)”. Or “Oh seed catalogs are starting to come, I wonder if he got them yet — SERIOUSLY STOP DOING THAT” or “In 2 days I will be at home for Christmas hanging out with my mommy and da——FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK”.
When I started drinking coffee I always drank it the way my dad did - plain. I was unaware there were other options; we were the only coffee drinkers in the house. Eventually, much later, I started putting milk in it and one day I was home and started putting milk in my coffee and heard “what are you doing?!” I think he was disappointed. He very quietly does not approve of stuff in coffee like he doesn’t approve of soda in scotch - leave it alone. So when I was home I drank my coffee like my dad did and now, because what the fuck won’t remind me really, I can’t bear to put milk in it.
HOW DUMB IS THAT.
You’re going to have problems with tense. You will amaze yourself with the ways you can find to avoid saying the word “was”.
Unexpected people will be amazing. They will lift you up and take you out and ask, weeks later when everyone else expects you to be back to normal, if you’re doing okay.
They will give you their entire day because it is your first one back and off and listen to your stories. They’ll ask what happened. They’ll call on the real talking phone. They’ll send you random pictures and videos and love notes every day for a week. They’ll put a bottle of your dad’s favorite scotch in your desk drawer. They’ll take off work and fly to Cleveland and show up with wine and snacks and bake you your favorite everything.
Strange things will make you nervous. Not obvious things. Not the phone ringing.
Time slows down. It feels like it has been November for 15 years.
