A brutal week of unwanted anniversaries round my way. Today, November 17th, marks two years exactly since I last looked upon my beautiful nephews. Or their Father. Sadly, it’s even longer still since I’ve spoken with our other brother. Time that’s trundled past with unreasonably ferocious speed. Time that we’re never ever going to be getting back. And that time has meant I no longer even really know the children or the men I miss so much. Which has it’s own awful irony. Missing strangers remains no less difficult, no matter how cavalier I may seem at times.
Hot on it’s heels, November 18th comes armed with the commemoration that my Dad has already been gone eighteen years. Almost half my lifetime. Just really doesn’t feel fair and I’m still in shock, realising only now just how young he really was. I am almost his age when we lost him. Or near as damn it. And I know I am nowhere near ready to check out. Neither was he most likely.
Quite honestly, fuck this for a week. I found myself wondering what sort of a twisted God would align these events together. I am consequently about as numb as I ever find myself able to get and no closer to an answer.
Despite all of this, I am just about able to get a grip of things. I remain positive that our Father would never have turned his back on any of us. Well, further than allowing a weekend sulk to accommodate all parties calming down. And in defiance of this spectacularly shitty collision in the calendar, I am more full of hope than any sense of loss. Some people are now potentially two years closer to just calming down enough to talk to me and others remain close enough in memory to know exactly what advice they would offer.
Which is try to get on with it on the one hand and try to wait patiently on the other. Resolution will take the time it takes and if it really has to be another 18 years? It’s only a little blink away. Time continues to march, anger and bitterness will never take you anywhere good and your memories are often pretty much enough. You could do one thing for me if you like though. Just hug your Dad occasionally. You absolutely won’t regret it later.