today i had to perform the unthinkably dreadful task of choosing which of my father’s things to keep before my stepmom sells their house. excruciating doesn’t even begin to describe it. my dad was not what you would call a hoarder by any means – but he was, in the way that i am, sentimental. my stepmom has kept all of his things in his office since he passed nearly ten months ago. his clothes, books, CDs, photos, slides, boots, guitars, and motorcycle magazines. in the closet are still the arrays from the Optune device meant to prevent further tumor growth. on his desk, the mask that latched to the table during radiation to keep his head still. a couple of worn socks sit in a pair of his shoes as if he’d just taken them off.
i took home a few shirts from the Las Vegas Bike Fests he covered every year for over a decade, a couple of knick-knacks that sat on his desk, a map of his hometown that i’d imagined a plethora of imaginary shapes upon as a child, a stack of ancient records collecting dust in the closet, and around thirty books i’ll likely never read, but have spent too many years observing on his shelves to say goodbye to. my father was incredibly well-read and had well over a thousand books in his collection. he kept everything that ever mattered to him, including the suitcase he brought with him to the U.S. when he first moved here from germany when he was seventeen, plus the two books it originally contained. letters to loved ones, tattered and browned journal entries, a few college papers and grades, and every greeting card he’d ever received sat in their respective bundles. he was a very sentimental man.
i think i started this entry with the intention of making it more a conversation about sentimentality and familial relationships and less about my own experience, but i fear it’s just drifted into the direction of my own personal loss. it goes without saying that we have all been affected by our own losses in the last year. i have several friends who have lost parents – grandparents, step parents, both parents – to covid. pandemic stress has put people out of jobs, homes, entire businesses, and romantic relationships. the onslaught of losses have been relentless. i’ve experienced a little bit of all of it, but nothing compares to losing my papa.
on the fourth of july 2019, i woke up at 4 a.m. sobbing in my sleep. my pillow wet with tears, i had dreamt that my father passed away in front of me. in dreamland, we had been sitting at the dining room table when he collapsed without warning. when i awoke, i immediately wrote him an email from my phone in bed, my then-partner concerned at my crying and confused at my fervent texting at such an hour. i wrote him asking for a recording of all of his signature guitar songs on a CD for my upcoming birthday. i never did get that CD.
not three weeks later on july 22nd, i got a call from my stepmom while i was at work. she said that dad had been experiencing some decreased mobility on his right side and she feared he’d perhaps had a small stroke in his sleep. they went to the ER for an MRI and found far worse. i left work immediately and was first to arrive on the scene. we spoke with a nurse and were told that a tumor was buried deep in his parietal lobe. grade two, they estimated – non-aggressive and slow-growing. initially, he was just relieved that it wasn’t a stroke. i immediately wished that’s all it had been. eventually, my sisters made it to the hospital, and we met with a neurosurgeon that night who told us he theorized that it was actually a grade three. typical prognosis was 2-3 years with total resection. total resection would have put my father in a wheelchair for the rest of his life and rendered him largely speechless. whatever grade it was, it moved quickly. it was a complete nightmare.
that night, after my sisters went to their respective houses and my stepmom returned home briefly to get a few changes of clothes for the next few days, i stayed with my dad in his room and squeezed in next to him on his hospital bed. i laid my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. he nodded off at some point until my stepmom returned, and i’ll never forget how precious and fragile he felt to me in that moment. my dad, the strong, tall, intimidating “austrian oak” – with his booming laugh, grey beard and ponytail, cowboy boots and leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle – was suddenly vulnerable for the first time in my entire life. i held onto him tightly and listened to him breathe.
the following nine months were brief and heartbreaking as we witnessed his slow decline. his fingers disobeyed him, his speech mocked him, and his gorgeous, ingenious brain – multi-lingual and full of endless historical facts – worked against him until the end. he was furious, frustrated, but mostly defeated. i held his hand as often as possible, relished the few moments when i could make him laugh, and still found ways to play scrabble through our phones. i haven’t played since.
while i wish none of this had ever happened, that it had just been a stroke, transient and preventable – there is a small part of me that is relieved that he didn’t have to stay in the state he was in for too long. during those months, he became what he’d told me his entire life that he feared the most. it was the absolute most unfair trick the universe could have played on the loveliest man in the world, and he just deserved…so much better.
ultimately, life without my dad is just a lot less fun. he gave me his name, his eyes, his passion for writing, his darkly sardonic humor, and a well of wisdom i could never attempt to begin to quantify. as a child, he was my safe space without judgment, in my adolescence, my debate opponent (much to his chagrin) and counselor, and as an adult, my friend and accomplice in a number of nefarious shenanigans consisting of many nights sipping two-buck-chuck or whiskey or margaritas and discussing society’s many downfalls. losing my dad had always been my biggest fear growing up, and no amount of years could have prepared me for it, though i never thought it would be so soon. daddy was my favorite person, and i suspect he always will be.
