things i wished i said

my father died on October 7, 1977 at 7am. It was the day before I was to be married. a marriage that, subsequently, never took place. I am 7 years older than he lived to be. I was a different person...transitioning from willful teen to adult, in a home where no instructions for living were given...where my father's pride at being an excellent provider did not allow for my mother to work, nor for either of his children to learn the value of a dollar. we did as we pleased, spent what we wanted, and lived pretty much with an attitude of entitlement. in his job, he traveled and was away from the home 4 days out of the week, returning on friday to handwrite orders and call accounts to set up appointmments. there was no internet or email or voice mail. there was barely a touch-tone phone in most homes. the I90 was just being built. he drove back roads and county routes and Main Street USA's. he was diagnosed with cancer. and still he traveled. it was never discussed. we never knew what it was all about, or what he felt, or how the chemo was dragging him down or making him sick in hotel rooms far from home. he would go for chemo, then get on the road. always another account to visit. he was well respected in his field, even by his competition. when he was out for the final time, other sales reps covered his territory as well as their own, and his company kept the commission checks coming to us. his competition avoided most of the territory, in respect for what they were doing. these were the old days, when things like that happened. when he died, his sister arranged to have him brought to rochester, where she lived, to be assured of a proper jewish burial. i never thought to thank her for the incredible amount of arranging that must have entailed, as she grieved her younger brother. they had a very special bond that surpasses what any 2 children should have to experience together. my mother, brother & i were numb. surprised. he hadn't allowed for a conversation about his health, or for tying up loose ends, so we were taken completely by surprise when his trip to the ER for a backache ended 2 months later at his funeral. we rode in a limousine to an unfamiliar cemetery in an unfamiliar part of a town we didn't live in. it was many years before the ensuing chaos of our lives would settle enough to allow me to grieve. and by then, i had no idea where to find his grave. emails to cousins asking were replied to with news of family, but not the requested information. an intensive search on the internet and lengthy phone sessions led in circles - all of the jewish cemeteries had been consolidated at some point, and the only listing for a man with my father's last name proved to be a civil war veteran. today, as I began organizing my studio to collage, a picture of my dad fell onto the floor, and today, i again wished i could find where he was buried. just to stand there in front of something tangible and say what i need to say. i feel his presence in my life constantly, but i needed to have that granite in front of me, to mark the moment. today, my brother called from my father's gravesite. he found it. and miraculously. the former caretaker of the cemetery had been fired and left with all the records prior to 1989. by "chance," today Today This Day, the new caretaker was just about to start working on the site right next to my father's just as my brother pulled into the cemetery. so the caretaker knew exactly where to point him. my brother said he had been in this very same cemetery before, with no luck. my brother hung up when the caretaker came over to lead him, and i began to sob. there was so very much left to say when my dad died...so much left to hash through, grow through, make amends for, to move on after and become friends. i have tried to live every day to make him proud. but it isn't the same as standing in front of him and saying these things: I am sorry. I understand you now. I am sorry for the life you had growing up. I am sorry that I never thought to reach out to you. I am sorry for taking everything you provided for granted. I am sorry you worked so hard and enjoyed so little. I am sorry. and i thank you that you taught me so much with your example. and that you left a legacy worthy of a great man, worthy of the respect & remembrance that continues. There is so so much more, but it can only be spoken by the heart. the words have not been created to express the thoughts & feelings. so i will sit quietly and let my heart drain of the things that need to be given space & consideration. and soon, i hope to stand in front of the stone that marks where your body lay and know that your spirit and guidance and love have left that spot and have found a home in my heart. i feel the love you were never taught how to express. we both did our best for the time. i forgive us both for the relationship we were unable to have. and i love you, daddy.