svu marathon fun.

So, this may be something that was worth writing pretty long ago. Well, not really Long ago. Maybe a couple months.

My father died, a couple of months back. Life was really hectic. Honestly, without looking at some e-mails about filming, or talking to my mom or brother, I wouldn't be able to tell you the exact day. I was sleeping when it happened, because I'd been doing the night shifts with him in the hospital, and I slept when I just couldn't be there any longer.

Calling him father seems like such bullshit. He was my dad. Not my father. I never called him that. Too impersonal, too cold and correct. He was never an impersonal or cold person. A lot of who I am comes from that. A lot of my anger, too, I think, but that's ok. I loved him, and he loved me, and he knew that. I do to, but that doesn't make things much easier.

I've not put enough thought into all this (the writing and post part, at least), but in the amount I have, I know I haven't really dealt with it perfectly. It's hard to. I spend most of my life trying to be practical, or pragmatic. How can you talk to people about your dad dying? If they're not some professional, how fair is it? "Hey! Mind if I intrude on your emotions and good day with my shitty ones?" It feels... Less than friendly, doesn't it? I know, I Really know it won't make it much easier on me, but it Will be rough on them. There's a whole bevy of expectations there. One has to exhibit all the correct emotions socially, if they don't care, and if they do, I don't want to put someone through that. So, the slight comfort I might feel comes at the expense of my friends comfort, and I don't like that. I don't agree with that math, so I just put it away. I think I experience it, but I know I'm just setting it aside for Future Mike. Past Mike is a bit of a thoughtless jerk.

But, hey! A couple glasses in, and it makes it a bit easier to think about it all without that same practiced tact.

I miss him. He had faults, and plenty of them, but so do I. And I knew I wouldn't have him long... He had me so late in life, it was only a matter of time. But I really had hoped he'd get to meet any children I had. It makes me so damn conflicted, wanting to be mad and sad at the same time. He could have lived longer, but I honestly don't know how much he wanted to.

By the by, it was cancer that got him. But, I know it was from a whole laundry list of things that really did it. Cancer was just a result. He was an unhappy man. A lot of things happened in his life that I think, unaccomplished and amateur psychologist that I am, led to him just never feeling truly comfortable wherever he was. Though, I think me and my brother brought him close to comfort. He stayed, and I honestly think he had only the best intentions, if not the strongest willpower.

I apologize if all this is just rambling and branching into thousands of directions. I didn't really start this with any real concept of what I wanted to say beyond that I miss my dad, and I wish I were a little worse at handling it. Pragmatism might be the worst of the 'good' traits I like to think I exhibit. Synonyms? "Sensible. Practical. Commonsensical." I like to point out another. "Hardheaded." Fits me like a well tailored suit.

My dad was a good man. He made me angry, and I him. It was out of love. I loved him with every bit of myself, and I know he felt the same way about me, even if we were both so bad at showing it. What we did, we did with good intentions at the heart of them. I wish I'd had more time with him, to see him using his goofy, ridiculous humor to amuse the kids I hope someday to have. I wish I could have talked to him before he went, to have back the time the delirium he was in (drug and cancer induced) stole from me. I would have liked to have had time to put together the right words, to explain how much he'd taught me (to do, and what not to do) and how grateful I was and am that he was my father. The world will always be a bit darker, grimmer without him walking it. I don't think you can ever claim to be an honest adult with your parents alive... There will always be a warm, delightful, protective bubble. The world can't truly be as scary a place with your dad around to protect you. It's different now. Everything is real.

Well. Sorry. I really don't mean to impose on anyone's day. It's just nice to write, cry, and put some of these emotions of mine out. Better out, than in, right? Anyhow. Back to your normally scheduled lives.