I Wish

The thought came unexpectedly: I wish I could call my dad.

Yesterday, I sent text messages to my family, friends, partners, colleagues: BIG NEWS! I got back love by text, email, social media from so many people, almost instantaneous communication coming from all across the US. I felt surrounded by good vibes, excited about next steps. Meetings this morning, new things to learn, more excitement.

This afternoon it hit me, took my breath away. Grief is funny that way.

It took my dad years to get an email account. “Why would I want to email you,” he would say, “when I could just pick up the phone and call?” We did finally talk him into signing up for an account when no one would respond to him by fax anymore (true story!) and then there was no stopping him; he emailed jokes, music videos, motorcycle rides...and many, many wonderful love-filled messages. My dad never did get a smart phone - actively scorned them, actually - so I never had the ease of a quick text message back and forth. When I wanted him to know something, I just picked up the phone and called; he was always there and always ready to visit.

Today I really, really want to tell him my news. Pick up my phone and dial the number.

He would be proud of me. He would share my joy. He’d ask a lot of questions about what I would be doing, where I might travel, who I would be working with, what I was excited about. He’d keep track of my activities over the next few years and unnecessarily worry that he might call “during an important meeting” so always check by email first. I know these things to be true, and still want the experience.

A phone call with my dad today: this thing, I wish.

A laugh with my dad, June 2018.