My father died on September 28th, 1978. He was 60 years and 53 days old.
I was just 18 and less than a month old, at the time.
Today — October 22nd, 2020 — might look much like any other day, but it marks the point at which I have formally "outlived" my dad. I am now older than he ever got to be.
I can't explain exactly why, but somehow this day feels more significant than any of my birthdays and almost all other important dates that have come my way.
Intangibles are hard to explain. But somehow... I feel like "I'm gonna be OK" now. No, not a case of "famous last words," or "I'm better than you," either.
Our paths haven't really unfolded in similar ways. He pursued money and status; I have tried to pursue happiness. From a purely functional standpoint, he was clearly much better off than I have ever been.
Different priorities.
And yet?
Have we really been all that different?
The part of my dad very few people ever got to "meet" was the side of him that really just wanted to buy and sell antiques, and to restore old paintings. He was ultimately very creative and mostly just wanted to be left alone and not have to deal with people. Least of all with their expectations of what his life "should" be.
Which is ever so much like myself.
Sadly, I never really got to know him, as an adult. Our relationship never progressed beyond the point where I was still "a kid" and I was living at home, rather than out in the world, forging my own way.
A few months after his death I was, mind you.
I think he was happy at the end, in his own way. My parents had already been divorced a number of years, and he had partnered up with another woman who also happened to be the mother of one of my best friends from grade school.
Somehow, he had gradually become a different person, in that relationship... more relaxed, more fun to be around, not so serious, not so angry. Being away from my mother had been a good thing, for him.
I understood. Being away from my mother had also turned out (later on) to be a good thing for me.
After his passing, all I had were memories, photographs and family stories. It had been a surprise to everyone that even though he was the youngest of five siblings by 14 years, he was the first of them to "trip the lights fantastic."
My dad relaxing on the terrace at the house where he died. Taken a few weeks before his death.
He taught me many things about plants and nature; about gardening; about money and investing; and about collecting "fine and rare" things. He also taught me the value of — and appreciation for — quality things made entirely by hand. I also owe much of my love of photography to him — he gave me my first "serious" camera for my 16th birthday.
And so, I take these few words to observe this "odd" moment, and commit it to the history of the blockchain.
Thanks for reading!
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Created at 20201022 14:48 PDT
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