20 Life Supports

My dad died 20 years ago today.  I’m appropriately blah and fast-track grumpy as a result.  So, I decided to draft a list of 20 people and things that have helped me feel less blah and fast-track to grumpy town over these last two decades.  This is extremely rough draft-y and quick reflection.  I could easily write an entire piece about all twenty (plus two) of these.

Here goes:

1. My mom, who just knows and who has picked up all the slack, all the time, since 1977.

2. My grandparents, particularly my grandfather who always had a patience and a kind word when it came to my dad.

3. My friend George and his wife Abbey, who drove 3 hours round-trip, twice in one week, like it was nothing, to attend funeral-related stuff.  Both have also been down this path. 

4. My friend Kevin J., who called and asked what he could do and followed through with exactly what I asked. 

5. My husband, who always treats this topic gently and with kindness and patience. 

6. Michelle, who has been down this path and is a constant light, daily.

7. Gilmore Girls, which aired the same month my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 mouth cancer.  I didn’t watch it when it originally aired, mainly because I was going through a lot of crap.  But I started watching in 2007, when some fog started lifting and life was getting happier.  I’ve always appreciated how the original timing of this show perfectly bookended a period of my life that I wanted to forget.  Watching it, particularly in order start to finish, is a small way of reclaiming a shitty time.  

8. Kevin M., who has a huge heart.  Caitlin O. who is a recent member of this club who is so easy to talk to, whenever either of us need it. Roxanne W., who is sharp-witted and has a sharp view of life. (That was 3, but I wanted to end this at 20 and since I made up the rules I can do what I want.)

9. Kathryn H. from my 7-year writing group, who has also been down this road and opened my eyes to a fine example of beautiful prose on the topic. 

10. Writing.  It always helps.  

11. Driving.  Windows open.  No real destination.  Music loud.  Except at stoplights because something about my age means I turn music down at those. 

12. Johnny Cash.  I think he liked him. When I listen, it seems like something he’d have loved.  I have foggy memories of him laughing at “One Piece At a Time”.

13. Aunt Boots.  His sister.  She came over for Christmas morning breakfast with him, then without him.  She had the best laugh.  Super nasal.  I was recently at an outdoor cafe and could have sworn I’d heard her in another woman’s laughter.  

14. Karen.  My second mom.  She’s been there through everything in our family.  

15. Melissa. Karen’s daughter and my childhood best friend.  Our dads were drinking buddies.  We took thousands of dance classes together and I knew just what to try and say to her when her dad died a few years after mine.

16. Cyrus.  My friend with a sense of humor when your dad sings “happy birthday” to you in dirge style, because he’s had too many and spontaneously decided to show up to your surprise 17th birthday party.  Also the friend who introduced me to so much music, and some real grounded ways to look at life. 

17. JMU Drumline.  What a great distraction with a great bunch of people.  People who had my back, no matter what.  Drumming also has a therapeutic effect in its repetition. 

18. Wind.  This is corny but I always get this sense of my dad when it’s windy.  Maybe he liked storms like I do, or maybe I made it up.

19. Distance running.  Lots of time to think, or not to think.  Another therapeutic form of repetition.

20. Arthur.  Framing all this through a parent lens makes it all worth it and makes it all seem more purposeful.  He would've loved his Grandpa Larry, and we try to answer questions about him, even if a lot of the answers are "I don't know." Grandpa Larry would have adored this sweet little love.