intent
The grief really do hit you out of nowhere like a sucker punch. Perhaps it's cliche to put it that way, but it's true. I texted my Dad on Thanksgiving day and I've yet to delete it, so I saw my own message with the old photo of him from the beginning of his cancer battle. It just caught me out of nowhere, like the crook they use in cartoons to drag the performer off-stage. Is this what it's going to be like for the rest of my days? Constant companion, indeed.
Belinda said she'd send me good photos of him from her Google photo account, as the only ones I have on my phone are the ones we took at each visit - a timeline of his decline, so to speak. The loss of weight, the decay and loss of teeth, the side effects from both cancer and chemo more apparent the more recent photos become. I was talking with Merritt and Amanda (my sisters-in-law) at some point and said something about how the photos of him they showed at the celebration of life seemed like snapshots of a different person. I found myself looking at him and trying to see myself in his features. (I couldn't.) I didn't know he'd been so blonde as a boy; didn't know he'd suffered so many health issues as a child that would lead to his eventual kidney transplant (and put him on the medication that would cause his cancer). So many things I didn't know and still don't.
It occurred to me at some point, as it does for most people, I think, that I did not call or text or visit enough. That may always haunt me. I have texted friends with more regularity than I did my own father. That could be due to hubris or complacency, but whatever the reason, the truth remains. Because of this gutting realization I've made the commitment to myself that I will do better, especially with the people that I don't always want to engage with for one reason or another. I might not always feel this way and I'm sure I'll falter and forget, but I'm hoping this self-pledge will stick. No time like the present to develop a little self-discipline, I suppose. It's true what they say, though - there's no time like the present; you just don't know how much time you have, so make each moment count, etc. Here's to making it count and being more intentional.