On The Passing Of My Dad, Six Years On

One of my all-time favorite images of my dad.

My pops died on May 30, 2014. Six years ago. I have previously written about him and his passing here, here, here, and here. I took to posting about my dad every year after his death for the first four years. I suppose that this was my way of working through grief and processing his death.

Then, as usual, life got in the way.

Oh, it's not that I didn't think about it on May 30, 2018 and the same in 2019, it's just that I didn't write about it here. Make no mistake; I think about my dad every single day. More on some days...

For example, I got up yesterday morning, poured some coffee into a coffee mug that used to belong to my dad, sat down at my computer and started to think about what I would write this year. The first thought that popped into my head was, "Dang, it's been SIX YEARS?!" I contemplated that for a moment and jotted down a few ideas.

But then my son woke up and he and I drove a truckload of mulch out to Melissa's grandparent's house to spread around for them. My day kicked into high gear.

We did some mulching at my house too.

Weed pulling and more mulching.

By evening, I had worked outside for a good portion of the day (see above), and installed three different lighting fixtures around the bar in my rec room (more on that project another time). I was exhausted and hadn't had the opportunity to finish sketching out my thoughts on the anniversary of my dad's passing.

"No sweat." I thought. "I'll just finish up a post tomorrow morning."

And here we are. I'm sipping coffee out of the same mug and reflecting on it all.

My dad would have LOVED my day yesterday. The coffee early in the morning while the air in central Pennsylvania was crisp and cool, followed by some good labor outdoors (some of which was at his house, to help my mom out), to the electrical work in my house... all of this was stuff that he enjoyed doing. I find that the times when I miss him the most are when I work on things that - were he still with us - I would have called to have him join me. He would have gotten particularly geeky helping me find a solution to hang pendant lighting above my bar. That was a challenge that he would have noodled over for a bit.

But back to my original morning thoughts...

"Dang, it's been SIX YEARS?!" was my initial reaction to waking up on May 30th. All day long I thought about how my pops had been gone from us for so long. All of the things that he is missing. One the anniversary of his death in 2015, I wrote:

My dad would have been extremely proud of his grandkids and their talents. It hurts to know that my kids won’t have their “Popeye” (that’s what they call him) watching at their ballet recitals or soccer games.

...and that still rings true. But now, six years later, he has two more grandchildren. My brother and his wife have two sons now that are two- and three-years-old, respectively. The thought of all of the things in their lives that he's missing is disheartening. Even moreso the fact that those boys will never know their Popeye. Only stories from us to go with pictures.

Bummer, right?

So much has changed in my life in the past six years. So much has changed in the lives of my family, and my brother's family, in the past six years.

Then, as I have meditated on publicly before, my thoughts turned to the driver of the vehicle that killed my pops.

Six years have passed since a high school student struck my dad while he was riding his motorcycle. Six years have passed since an adolescent's life was completely changed. Again, on May 30, 2015 I wrote:

[I]n the days immediately following the accident – when details were still sketchy at best – I vividly remember thinking, “man, this teenager now has to live the rest of their life knowing that they killed another human being.” That is a heavy burden for anyone to carry, but especially for a teenager.

...and now that driver is likely in their mid-20s. What has their life been like since 2015? College? Work? Military service? I began to ruminate on how the path of a young adult would have been changed - for the better or worse - in the aftermath of a life-altering event like this. Do they think about the accident? Is this date burned into their mind? Do they associate beautiful, sunny days in late May with the accident - and by extension my dad?

And, once again, I felt sorry for the individual that ostensibly took my dad away from the family. I do hope that they are well and have been able to move on and be successful in life.

I like to think of myself as a forgive-and-forget type of person, and that has certainly rung true about my thoughts in this matter. But I'm not going to lie; there is a small part of me that hopes that they think about that day in May from time-to-time.

Because I do. Every day.

I'm certainly thankful for the time that I had with my dad over the years. But, particularly on a day like yesterday, I wish had more time.


Edit: I previously identified my nephews as two- and four-years-old respectively. I'm a terrible uncle as they are currently two- and three-years-old, respectively. Thanks to my bro for pointing out my error!