March 25th

So today's the day my dad died, 14 years ago. I've hit that point where I have now been alive longer without him than with, and that feels very weird.

Backstory: My dad started acting sick at the holidays of '92. He went to the hospital after my Mom asked my sisters and I to convince him to go in (he already knew what was wrong, in a way) at the start of January. On January 5th, he was diagnosed with cancer of the stomach lining, which is still incurable. As in, nobody who's had it STILL has lived beyond a few months. He was sick, doing chemo for 2 and a half months, then he died. We didn't get alot of time to adjust. But we were still luckier than other people who's family members die suddenly-- we got time for a bit of talking.

My dad made these video tapes for my sister, mom, me, and his and my mom's families. This was before the Michael Keaton movie My Life. They have always been really important to us. I have about 30 minutes of my dad talking to just me, on video tape. But something happened during the filming, and there's no sound for all but 10 minutes. Each year, when I watch it, I hope that maybe magically the sound will come back. Not this year.

I wish I could have given J the father he always wanted through marriage. He was always looking forward to the idea that he'd marry into a family, and there would automatically be a dad there. Well, I have a stepdad. Who's an ex-priest. Who gave my father last rites, and officiated his funeral. He buried my father. And then, 3 years later, he married my mom. It sounds twisted, it isn't. I probably should stop resenting him, but do you know how hard that is?

Not exactly a story you talk about down here, in Bush-ultra-conservative-religion-land.