today was my pop's birthday. i remember last year he didn't want to celebrate; he kind of blew us all off, and when my sister tried to at least make a dinner out of it, he shot her down and she was pretty pissed. if we'd known then that he only had a month to live, would things have been different? i guess that's why we don't know. reasonably, i know that's how it should be, but i can't help but wonder and wish i'd done more for his birthday.
this year i was supposed to see my mom and sister and have dinner in pop's honor at his favorite little restaurant in coupeville, the tyee. he always got the fish and chips and an MGD, draught. i couldn't go, thanks to this retched cold/flu/plague i have. it would have been nice.
as it is, i spent the day alternately napping, sweating, and opening up random boxes to see what i had in them. i've always known i take a lot of photos, but my pre-digital days gives those photos an actual heft and physical space. i found more than a few photos of pop, and honestly, being able to hold a photo in your hand feels totally different than looking at it on a computer screen. i think i'd forgotten that. i'm sad. it's been almost a year now, and while i don't feel like i'm being punched in the gut all the time anymore, i don't feel great. there were more than a few changes in the past year, and there's a part of me that's still reeling from that, and a part of me that's gotten a whole lot better at adapting. at this point, however sad i feel, i can see things getting better. let's face it, the past few years i've been in a bit of a funk, and i've acquired a couple of bad habits that i'm going to need to kick. sugar and TV being high up on my list. i'd do anything to have pop back, but not having him, and losing him so suddenly, shook me up. i don't want to waste any more time. i don't want any more boxes of stuff languishing for years, i don't want to keep getting rounder and unhappier with my body, i don't want to be afraid to put down roots and deal with grown-up shit, i don't want to be who i am right now. which isn't to say that i'm entirely unhappy with myself, but i know i can do better. looking at those photos, looking at the life i'd built at one time, before i started doubting myself and everything else, made me realize in very clear terms what's changed in my life. i think the more i've tried to mold my life into what i think the "right" thing to do is, what i "should" be doing, the farther away from me i've become.
perhaps this is all hocus pocus, sinus-infection, ramblings of a sickly woman, but i might also be onto something. more making, less talking. more doing and creating and enjoying, and less living up in my own head, analyzing every damn thing to death. more! thank you. i'll be taking my sudafed and heading to bed now.