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Do I know anyone who is a forger? I'm trying to cobble together a specific phrase in my dad's handwriting using tracing paper and old birthday cards. I've been able to do a passable rendition of my mom's signature for years but I cannot get dad's. It's much spikier than mine.
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Last night's hysterical sick to my stomach crying brought to you by "did my dad know how much I loved him"
I asked the tarot and got the wheel of fortune because fuck me I guess. I will never know. It is unknowable.
I keep not FORGETTING that my dad is dead but looking at old photos or thinking about how he'd respond to something if I texted him and not quite believing that he's gone.
He was just so vital. I see my own face when I look at photos of him which probably complicates things.
How can he possibly just be gone.
My dad died a month ago and my sleep and appetite are still incredibly fucked and also the gas is out in my building (gas stove) and I barely know how to use our air fryer but I made dinner for myself tonight that I ate all of thanks to pantry items (corn meal), last week's CSA (escarole + garlic scapes), and an egg, and I'm proud of that victory.
It's 10:30pm and TBD how it sits in my stomach but I got calories and protein and vegetables into my belly tonight in spite of technical difficulties. I used to be amazing at scavenging dinner and making best use of CSA veggies and I am very out of practice. But maybe it's like a bicycle after all.
Why did my dad never show me Bullitt as a kid
Steve McQueen was his idol. Bullitt was either his favorite or second favorite of his movies (the other being The Great Escape, which had the advantage of overlapping with my grandfather's WWII POW experience). But somehow we never watched it together.
I finally decided tonight was the time and I wish I could text him about it. I want clarification on whether Robert Vaughn (how many movies did they do together??) was corrupt or just kind of a tool. I want to know how that dark green Beetle kept getting ahead of both cars in the chase scene. I want to know why, when I tried to get him to watch various F&F movies, he didn't say "ok but let's watch Bullitt first and then again after." I want my dad to tell me how much of the driving McQueen did himself.
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This was my dad. A passionate weirdo whose motto was Go Big or Go Home. He loved his daughters deeply and we loved him to the moon and to Mars and all the way out to Pluto and back.
I still can't fully believe he's gone, and when I think about that I cry hysterically. He was so full of life in the incredibly cliched phrase that sounds meaningless until you know the person it's describing.
I know it's worse for a parent to outlive a child because I know a lot of those parents but this is still so awful. I'm trying to gnu him by just telling everyone my favorite stories about him, looking at old photos, playing his favorite music. He taught me to make scrambled eggs and to be a specific kind of coffee snob and how to put on a bandaid cleanly and how much sunscreen it takes to cover an average sized body (a shotglass full) and how to cook meat with the touch method and he tried to teach me to rollerblade and windsurf and snowboard but they didn't take.
No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away—until the clock he wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life, they say, is only the core of their actual existence. - Reaper Man
White Wine In The Sun by Tim Minchin
To all those I love, my mutuals, that one mad gent at the back of the bus...may whatever gods you call on be kind to you and yours. May the coming year be kind to us all for a change, we all can use some white wine in the sun.
