Frequently contacted

  These new smartphones have many exciting and unique features. That's obvious, right? The ability to click a little star on a contact, so they appear in your favorites list, is one of them. Just under that favorites list is the frequently contacted list. The frequently contacted list contains, in order, the people who I keep in touch with the most. It's this list that I struggled with yesterday.

  As a side note, that last paragraph was boring. I don't think I could ever be a technical writer. The mundane nature of writing the basic functions of a smart phone made me a little sad. I'm not by nature a pedantic person, but that paragraph came dreadfully close.

  So......this frequently called feature jumped up and bit me yesterday. I wanted someone to chat with, ya know, lonely and needing a friend. This is rarely a difficult thing to achieve, so I started calling.

  I began my search at the top of my frequently called list. Let's see....that guys at work, this guy's busy with his wife, that guy didn't answer, I don't want to hear about this guy's problems......I was striking out. Keep scrolling down.

  Right there, second from the bottom, my dad's number. It has survived the last couple of weeks clinging on to our last conversation. It troubled me to realize that it will soon drop off the list. Slowly, inexorably, his number is going to leave.

  I thought about calling the number, keep boosting the numbers, artificially keeping him on the list. However, my stepmom still has the phone active on the chance that someone calls that needs to be informed of his passing. How would she react seeing my name pop up calling in? Would it trigger her? I don't want that.

  The solution is to let his number slide of the list. Another goodbye. Another, among many, small things I will grieve about my dad's passing.

  I have known when others have slid off the list. This modern barometer of whom I stay in touch with the most has bitten me before. I reluctantly accept that few relationships last a lifetime. Maybe some do, most simply can't. Heck, I've got the proof on my phone.

  Blessing or curse, the frequently called feature tells a story. It's a story of those we contact often, and it can be a story of those we are losing contact with. The pinhead that designed it certainly never had this in mind. Don't get me wrong, I like the feature, it's super convienient. It's just an unusual way to be reminded of loss.
 

Remembering Dad

  Dad passed away in the early hours on Jan 31st. That was a long day, surely a hard one. In the midst of his passing some powerful things have happened. I'm gonna incorporate them into my blog in the upcoming postings, but it's going to take a while.

  So let's start with a strange one. I went in and spent a few moments alone with my dad's body. It wasn't a falling all over him, horrified that he was gone moment, rather, it was peaceful. He wasn't in pain anymore. I kept expecting him to blink, breathe, something..... but he wasn't there. His struggles were over.

  I cried some. I wanted to say alot of things, but I noticed a baby monitor was still on. How could I be raw and real knowing that others could hear me?

  What do you say to the man you struggled so hard with? How can you express grief when the shock is so fresh? When you begin seeing your dad as a loving man, how do you not have regrets?

  I'm intensely aware that Dad loved me. My complete failure as his son never compromised his love for me. Sure we fought over meaningless stuff, but we cried together over the important. We joined together in a battle of wits against unarmed men. In other words, we complained about the world just like everyone else.

  The past few days have brought new family members back into my life. It's a strange process, this getting to know people. Life is too short to be unreconciled with people you can care about. I didn't quite get that before.

  My battle today is focused on his memorial service. I will be speaking. I will be preaching Dad's favorite passage. I hope I honor him well.

  The speaking in front of people troubles me. I was a facade of a man for years. I was able to speak to a crowd in utmost confidence, whilst lying the whole time. I'm not that man anymore. But I feel the draw to be fake. There is that desire to push platitudes and clichés. There is a desire to be puffed up and not humble. I can be very prideful.

  I want to be genuine. I want to share how my dad loved me thru the worst of times, about how we had tender moments, about how I wish he were here so we could argue some more, about how he was a diamond with sharp edges.

  The memorial is in March. I'm starting to take notes. I feel like I have one opportunity to tell a large group of people about my dad and I want to do it well. Am I nervous? Yes.

  So here we go. Someone once told me that humans are either in a crisis, emerging from a crisis, or will soon be entering a crisis. It's my job to care. I want that message to be shared at dads memorial. he would have liked that.