Regrets and Remembering

dad
It’s been 7 years today since my father died. How it’s been this long is something I cannot understand, because on that morning, it felt like the entire world stopped spinning and all time ceased. In some ways, I suppose, it actually did. I’ll never be the same person I was before this day. Some part of me is frozen behind a transparent wall that separates me from evolving into who I would have been without this loss. I lost more than my father that day – I lost myself. Ever so slowly, I’ve gotten small parts of myself back, and yet I know there will never be a time when I get back the comfort I lost that day. Each year that passes, a new phase of loss takes over, and while it always focuses on something a little different, the feeling is the same: I’m physically and mentally exhausted and I find myself wandering aimlessly. On one of my recent wanderings, I started obsessing over things I regret when it comes to my dad. They aren’t huge regrets; luckily I have none of those (well, maybe one: right after he died, I cried for days when I realized my last Christmas gift to him had been a toaster…a toaster! I regret that damn toaster like you wouldn’t believe.)

If I Could Go Back I Would:

Take More Photographs – And by “more” I mean “way too many;” because now, I look back, and I don’t have nearly enough photos of my father and I together. We live in an age where there is a camera at your fingertips about 99% of the time – bust it out no matter how much people piss and moan – they’ll thank you later. Bonus points for taking candid’s of people you love when they don’t even know you’re doing it – when they’re being their authentic selves. Those captured moments are priceless and sadly, photographs tend to last much longer than we do.

Ask More Questions – I don’t know what age I was when I figured out that my parents were actually human beings, but now that I know they were individual people with a history of their own before I ever came into existence, I really wish I asked my dad more questions. I yearn to know him as an adult. Get to know your parents at every new age you enter – the man I knew my father to be when I was 12 years old, was different than the man I knew him as when I was 24…and I’d sure love the opportunity to get to know him now that I’m in my 30’s; because as we mature, so do the questions we ask.

Say “I Love You” More – As in, way too much. I come from a family where we say “I love you” constantly. I exchanged these words with my parents probably ten times in a day – and I STILL wish I’d said it to my father more. Tell people you love them. Say it until you’re blue in the face and they’re looking at you strangely wondering if something is very wrong with you. Just. Say. It.

Ride The Damn Motorcycle – My dad was a pretty cool guy. He hiked, he camped, he knew how to fix anything, he could cook up a feast, he knew every answer in Jeopardy, he loved riding motorcycles…the list goes on. As life goes, my dad let go of some of his beloved hobbies as he got older, riding motorcycles being one of them. As a gift, not long before he died, my mom surprised him with one. As in, went out and bought it behind his back and put it in the driveway on a beautiful summer morning. It was a completely insane gift that he never EVER would have bought for himself (You guys were a really good match, Mom…I see that more than ever now), and I will NEVER forget the open-mouthed look of surprise on his face when he saw it shining in the driveway. My regret is this: He asked me a thousand times to let him take me for a ride on it – but I always refused. I always shook my head violently whenever he’d beg, saying “It’s so frickin’ cool, Ash!” I know it would have made him so happy to take me for a ride, and there’s nothing I’d like more now than to climb on the back and bite back my fear. The point: If you can bring joy to your loved ones by saying “yes:” Just. Say. Yes. Say “yes” to being part of the things that make their heart happy.

(On a related note: Buy. The. Motorcycle. Life is too short to deny yourself the things that make your soul feel joy.)

Say “Thank You” More – I’ve always been grateful to my parents. Growing up, we didn’t have tons of money, and I saw how hard they worked to give us everything they could. Now that I’m older, I see the DEPTH of what they did for us. I can appreciate now, more than ever before, the extent of their love. For example, I now realize how completely EXHAUSTED my dad must have been, working the hours he worked, but he’d come through the front door every night, briefcase in hand, smiling – ready to play monopoly, backgammon, cook dinner, or watch movies with us. I’d love to say “thank you” not only for providing us with a home and food, but also for “man-ing up” and putting in the extra effort when I’m sure he wanted to collapse. Hell, I don’t even have three kids and when I get home from work, I can barely summon the energy to feed myself. So, find gratitude in the littlest things, which are really the biggest – and (here’s the important part) speak that gratitude out loud. I was still too young when my dad passed away to thank him for the things I’d thank him for now.

Every day that we’re on this earth with the people we love is a blessing and when you think of how fast it can all change, it becomes too big to comprehend. But, every single sacred moment that you’re in the presence of those most important to you is an opportunity to LOVE them – and I mean “love” as a verb, an action. Don’t let it overwhelm you. No act of love is too small. In fact, it’s the smallest things that end up being the biggest.

Missing you, daddy.

– A