<\/a>In that order.<\/p>\n

Lately I’ve been having the spooky forgetful moments where I see something and think “I need to tell Dad…” and then stop myself. I’m told it’s inevitable when someone is taken from you so quickly.<\/p>\n

However I like to turn it on it’s ear, and think it’s the other way around. The thing that I see that reminds me to go tell my father is actually Dad’s way of “talking” to me.<\/p>\n

I know. Loony bin time.<\/p>\n

Example: I noticed renovations to Dad’s old condo and I think I should tell him about it. And I stop. And say to myself “Yes, Dad. I see the new flowerbeds.”<\/p>\n

I see a restaurant opening in his neighbourhood and think “I wonder if Dad would like to eat there…” I stop. And then I tell myself “I’ll eat there with you.”<\/p>\n

Inevitably I will gain 30lbs with line of thinking.<\/p>\n

Regardless, he’s still around. He’ll never leave.<\/p>\n

We got through emptying 99% of the apartment on Friday with little kerfuffle or hullaballoo. At one point I was by myself loading a box into the service elevator and while I don’t have any strong attachments to the building (Da had not lived there long at all), to see his lemon yellow gaudy chair in the elevator made me cry. Fuck I hate that chair. But it was in a different environment. Another place, like my father was. And I got mad that this was happening and I was tired which lead to a floodgate opening. It took me the length of the hallway to get the crying under control.<\/p>\n

Speaking of crying, I have to ask this to the people who have lost someone utterly important your life: Have you noticed that some people, when you inform them of your loss, their response is like they want you to cry? I don’t think they’re trying to purposely make you upset but their responses seems like they need for you to turn on the waterworks to validate the moment. Some people’s show of concern looks so awkward that it’s reversed, making them look at you like you’re a cousin that’s been found locked in the attic after 25 years. Their eyes searching yours for the welling up of tears, like they’ve reached into you and succeeded in pulling on one of your heartstrings. One person within a few words of telling her of my loss asked “What’s your fondest memory of your father?” Uh. Wow. I know they were trying to make me think happy thoughts but… Wow. One person replied “Well we all go sometime!” in all stoic seriousness. I know I’m not alone in this, SharkBoy and his friend have both experienced this kind of odd response too.<\/p>\n

I digress.<\/p>\n

This weekend, along with new found friend Starkiller Biggs (not his real name), a member of the elite 501st<\/a>, as well as Grove of Blue<\/a> and Fortress<\/a>, all went off to the Canadian National Exhibition. I have to say that these people are a great new set of friends who I would kill for. They’ve let me rant and laugh about the last couple weeks with a nod or a thoughtful comment and have stood by me (thanks guys!). Yesterday was a great time and I was glad to have a decadent day of laughing, eating (yes, I had deep fried butter, deep fried Mac n Cheese, deep fried Snickers bar and a Corn dog or two) and hilarious people watching. SharkBoy has his post<\/a> up here. His pictures are here<\/a> and my pictures are here.<\/a><\/p>\n

And while I’m at it, SharkBoy continues to make it incredibly easy for me to love him more and more. As I mentioned above, our new friend Starkiller Biggs came to town this weekend and told of many a fun time dressed as a Storm Trooper for the 501st. At one point, SharkBoy uttered “I want a Storm Trooper costume.”<\/p>\n

I couldn’t love him any harder.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In that order. Lately I’ve been having the spooky forgetful moments where I see something and think “I need to tell Dad…” and then stop myself. I’m told it’s inevitable when someone is taken from you so quickly. However I like to turn it on it’s ear, and think it’s the other way around. The […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":430,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":""},"categories":[8,3],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9WjY-1J3","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6637"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/430"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6637"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6637\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6637"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6637"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6637"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}