Things that cannot be fixed

So, i was about to get that final surgery next week. Finally get those implants placed. Take one more step toward biting into that bacon cheeseburger at Hodad's I've been holding out for (I mean seriously, who wants to eat a bacon cheeseburger with a knife and fork?)

As it happens, however... It's not going to happen now. Now is a more serious time. Now is a time not to worry about how to fix me. Now I have to fix everything else. And I don't know if I can.

You see, my dad died this weekend. It was sudden, but perhaps not completely unexpected. It was awful. It is awful. I feel smaller, less engaged, more hallow. I don't know what I'm going to do without him.

My dad was a great man. Sure, he was flawed. Made us angry, pissed us off. But despite the superficial flaws, he was the best person I've ever known. He was the best father you could ask for. He taught, and listened (most of the time). He was my mentor and inspiration. He was my rock, and my best friend.

I've been wandering around for the last couple of days, sort of just going through the day to day stuff. Trying to maintain some sense of normalcy. But it's not normal. It's so incredibly not normal. You think sometimes... "what would I do if xyz happened. How could I make it better". Well, despite all those daydreams, I still don't know how to make it better. Don't know how I can give my mom some sense of peace. I'm worried about her the most. I mean, she had what everyone wants. Another half. I working machine.. .mom & dad, together against the world. They raised us, and made us happy and kept the bad away, even when they had bad all around them. They worked like a well oiled machine. A nagging, cooking, complaining, arguing, loving, caring machine. And everything was OK as long as they were there.

And now that machine is broken. He left... left too early. Left us to live without him. Damn him for leaving us too early. I want to be mad at him. I'm reasonably sure I'm not the only one who feels that way. But I can't be mad. I can't be angry with him. I want to shake my fist at the sky and say "What the fuck man?". In fact, I'm reasonably sure I've done that already. But why? What good is that?

Instead I wonder... who will I call and bitch about sports to? Who will call and ask why Star Trek isn't on? Who will get me the latest interesting piece of baseball trivia? Who will smile and laugh and tell me that story that seems to put things in perspective? Who's going to remind me not to overcook their steak? Who will fix it?

I guess that's the point, right? Life has no fix. We all live broken, and sometimes it's much harder to work around. Instead, I'll fix what I can. I'll treat the symptoms, but know that there's no cure.

No cure for the hole in me. Only sadness. Profound sadness. Fortunately, with little if any regret. I never forgot to tell him I loved him. Never forgot to give him a hug and a kiss. Don't forget that shit people. Seriously, don't ever forget.

You know, as much as part of me died with him, a larger of part of him lives with me. And with the untold people he touched. With my mom, and my sister and the grand kids, and all my friends, and everyone else. Because I didn't have a normal dad. I had a super-dad. Peter was graced with more love to give, and more ways to care and show it then anyone. I'll be more alone without him. But he taught me, perhaps more then anything else, he taught me how to make sure you were never alone. He taught me how much people need each other, and how much we make each others lives better. And even though he left me, he left me rich. Rich in love and caring and friends and family. No inheritance could surpass what he left me with.

Thanks Dad. I will miss you terribly. I love you.