Bittersweet birthday
Today my Dad would've turned 54.
I was doing okay until I hit a rough, hectic patch in the morning, when literally almost every email from my boss ended with ASAP or re-do this or...I don't know what. Which made me want to curl up somewhere and sit in peace for a while.
I had such a blast at Morgan and Andy's wedding over the weekend, but when I got home I definitely needed a moment or two to collect myself. All the emotions I've been shoving to the side finally bubbled up, I guess. To be honest, it was bittersweet to see Morgan escorted by her Dad to the ceremony and then to see them at the picture-taking afterwards, with their whole clan together. I was genuinely so happy for her, but at the same time I couldn't help but think that my sister and I'll never have that. But that's life. It is what it is, and not all families are so lucky. It also made me think that IF I were ever to get married, I'd just have my Mom walk down the aisle with me. Many Moms have to be both, nowadays, for one reason or another.
I feel kinda bad, though. I have not been able to visit his grave at all since we interred his remains. At this point, my grandparents (his parent's) have gone more than me, since ever since they arrived last weekend, they've gone every single day. And they're a couple in their late 70s/early 80s. I haven't been able to go partly because my schedule has been out of control, but also because the cemetery is open only during work hours--which is not helpful when I already get out late at 6pm. Still…those are excuses. I'll go this Friday, since those are half days.
It's also a bit weird to have my grandparents in the house again. I know they're the ones who've clearly known my Dad the longest, but the generational gap between them and me and my sister has become so vast. It's different with my Mom's parents because I see them almost every other day, and they know my daily life and how I am, but with my Dad's parents, sometimes I don't even know what to say to them. They always knew me through my schoolwork and grades, but now that that can't apply to me anymore, we mostly end up watching TV or reading in the living room together. If I am there--usually they have the TV on so loud (due to the fact that they're also hard of hearing) that I'd rather just hang out in my room. And then I feel guilty, because I know if he were still around, my Dad would be like, "why are you ignoring your grandparents? You're being rude!" But…it's just so hard to relate to them. Oh, I know they're here mainly to see my Dad's grave, which will help them through their own unimaginably worse grieving process--this is the second son they've lost. But a part of me feels at a loss because they are my Dad's parents, and I hardly know them. And the reality of it is, their own time is limited too. It just makes me think that so much family history is lost between generations.
Not to end on a completely depressing note, over the past couple of weeks my uncle in Seattle has been sending me old photos from my Dad's childhood. I made a photobook out of them, along with more recent family photos, and gave it to my Mom.
Old photos from the late 1950s
With his eldest brother, Roselito, who passed away at 17. He had a
severe asthma attack which caused cardiac arrest.
My Dad's on the right
