Saturday, September 4, 2010

For @Tarpo and My Dad

Almost every post after today's is going to be PG-13 gaming-related humour, and I'll be posting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night. Today, however, is for my Twitter friend @Tarpo, and my dad.

@Tarpo lost his dad recently, and asked if it gets any easier.

It does man, it honestly does. Weeks of crying will turn into days, and days into moments. These moments will probably happen throughout the rest of your life, but it's in these moments that those lost are closest. Talk to them. My moment was on my dad's birthday two days ago, and today, on the anniversary of his death.

It was a year ago today I was standing over my father in emergency, saying goodbye and reassuring him that I'd take good care of his grandkids. It's been a year since I lost my dad.

Two days ago it was his birthday. I went to his gravesite to visit him, and let him know that things are going pretty good, and promise him I'd visit my sister's grave for him every year on his birthday.

A year ago since you died, and your thirty-seven year old former soldier of a son still cried like a five year old watching his daddy fly away to a conference. A year ago, and tears still fall as I type.

My dad was worried about me when he died. It was still up in the air as to whether my own life would be cut short, and even if I lived, it was a pretty sure thing at that time that my job was going to be out-sourced and my family and I would be in dire straits. Things are much better now, but my dad died worrying. It is this one fact I've kept in my head as I've coalesced from the ashes of 2009.

I'm smarter dad. Stronger. I'm striving to be the elder you did your best to train me to be. Your training's paying off. You don't have to worry.

The one lesson my dad's life taught me: if you don't love what you're doing, it's not worth doing. I have a considerable amount of business acumen and my new line of business looks like it's going to make me a positively disgusting amount of money, but it's not what I truly love to do. Once it's up and running I'm going to train Danielle to take over the reins and hand over the daily operations of that business to her, because that's what she would love to do.

I listened dad. I took care of necessities before doing my artsy-fartsy stuff, but I'm still going to end up doing what I love.

I told Danielle that any proceeds from the new line of business that aren't needed for its health and expansion, or to provide a worry-free lifestyle for the family, are going to go toward supporting my love of writing and  game design. As someone who wants to see me happy (and who has started to love tabletop gaming herself), she enthusiastically agreed.

Goodbye dad. I'm doing what I love, but I'm still making enough money for my family to live comfortably. I'm going to try to make a noise loud enough so you can hear me, so you won't worry anymore. See you next year.