Dreams

I dream about my dad a lot. Sometimes I feel like there is a deep meaning to them (I'll explain specific dreams in later posts) and sometimes they just seem like any other dream, except he's there. In the last few dreams he's been sick but getting better. Able to move around without issue and talk about whatever. Everytime this happens there's a brief moment when I wake up that I feel like he's still alive, then reality sets in once again. I feel real sad after this happens, another reminder of what I had that is now lost. At first I wished that I didn't have these dreams, since waking up sad is not ideal. However, the more I thought about it, the more I enjoy these dreams. We get to spend time together, even if it's not really happening. And even if it only happens for a second, when I wake up I'm reminded what it's like to have him in my life. Although I miss him every single day, it's good to know that he lives on in memories and dreams. Going forward I will cherish these dreams and the memories they provoke.

Does a commercial for a crappy beer make me miss Dad the most?

Although I didn't know how I would deal with it, I knew from the beginning that there would be certain things that would make me miss Dad after he was gone. Things that we shared, or at least called each other about, whether it was sports, music, or whatever was on the History Channel. What I did not realize was the affect that small seemingly trivial things would have on me. Best example, a Heineken Light commercial.
In the commercial there are these younger guys, about my age, talking about how they are relearning to play golf from retired men and to slow things down. One of the younger guys then tees off and the old man reads the distance of his drive as around 150 yards, to which the younger guy just smiles and nods at the camera and says "oh yeah."
We used to joke about that when we played together. Dad's friend Buster would never hit it far but would always hit it right down the middle. It was old man golf and it worked. Of course neither of us used this method.
The first time I saw the commercial was after dad died so I'm sure he never saw it. The first time I saw it I wanted to call him and tell him about it. I still have the same feeling every time it comes on. And these are the things that get me. When I sit down to watch a Pats game or am on my way to a concert, I anticipate wanting to call him, and I can adjust. It's the random beer commercial that we would both love that catches me off guard. I guess there is no way to prepare for what will make me miss him.

Do I sulk, cry, or scream?

The last 24 or so have been very difficult. Last night I had the strongest urge to cry since the funeral. I'm not really sure why I held off. Right now I'm going through the motions at work, fighting the urge to scream or cry as everyone else goes on with there work, oblivous to the pain inside me.
After dad died, I wondered if things would get easier for a while. No panic everytime my phone rang. No more emails saying "call me on my cell as soon as you get this."  Being able to plan events without worrying about scrambling up to Mass at the last minute. Even though I feel awful saying it, maybe it was easier for a while. It's certainly not easier now. It's only now starting to feel real. I would deal with all of those difficulties again just for the ability to call him after the Patriots pull out a tough victory. I know I paused for a second last night after the James Sanders interception. I bet I reached for my phone before realizing the truth. I also know that not being able to make that call made that win a lot less enjoyable. For better or worse, sports (especially Boston sports) will be linked to him forever in my mind.
I think it also became real last night when I talked to mom. I could hear the pain and lonliness in her voice. I worry about her and wish I could be there for her more. I don't know how I'd help, but being so far away is hard. Although even we lived closer, I'm not sure that I could help ease her pain, and I'm not sure that she could help ease mine. The hole left in our lives is too big to ever fill. I guess we just try to continue our lives, changed forever.

First Entry

I've started this blog as a way to hopefully cope and properly grieve the loss of my father in July.  I've been keeping a journal from time to time and thought that it might be a good idea to post some entries, although some I'll still keep private. I'm not sure how often I'll post, if at all, but I hope to come here to relay memories and thoughts that I have. Some posts might be stories, some might be feelings, some might be dreams (I've had a lot of those), and some might just be random streams of thought.
The title of the blog is taken from a Mighty Mighty Bosstones song that really describes my dad and that I've listened to a lot in the last few months.  Here are the lyrics:

How could I forget, the day that he didn't die
That day he knew what he was up to
He had this look in his eye
How could I
Forget
There's no way
I could forget him, or ever forget the day

And then the day after that, just after the afternoon
It was the day after Christmas in his living room and he died
On that day
In his house
With his wife
Still I won't forget the day before the last day of his life

Oh, I really miss him, he would have loved this, I hope he can hear me
I really miss him, he would have loved this, I hope he can hear me

And how I loved how he lived, how he was loved and admired
A knack, a certain flare for life, and how he had it wired
He'd never give up, he'd never give in, he had a wonderful way of living

There's not been a day, one hasn't gone by
When I don't think about the day he didn't die

Oh, I really miss him, he would have loved this, I hope he can hear me
I really miss him, he would have loved this, I hope he can hear me