crazy, mixed-up kid

In others, I admire a well-turned phrase, a piquant wit, and ghastly puns. I'm pretty good with words myself, though a master by no stretch.

But so far I haven't been able to find the words to write this post. And I need to.

My dad died on May 18, 2010. There. I typed it. It was peaceful and quick, and I was not there. I was here in WA teaching piano lessons at the time when the phone call came from my mom. "It's Graduation Day!" she said. We spoke for a few minutes about I know not what, certainly details of his passing and words of comfort were exchanged, but I shut down at that point.

And I went and finished teaching for the remainder of the afternoon.
And went out to dinner.

May 18 was also my 40th birthday, and my 19th wedding anniversary. I needed to celebrate. I was obliged to celebrate, really, though I'm sure it must seem rather macabre from an outsider's perspective. We had sushi with friends - A. ate spring rolls and teriyaki...tried one Las Vegas roll, I think. He really doesn't do sushi.

With the timing of Dad's passing - so close to school year ending, A's trip to NY, and our already-scheduled trip to CA - Mom decided it would be better to wait and have a memorial service at the end of June when we can all be there.

So in many ways I've been numb and in limbo for the last, oh, whatever number of days it is now. Dealing with the grief as it comes up in unexpected ways and at unexpected times.

Last night capped it, though. Dad was an income tax preparer for many years. I was wondering about my piano business, my income taxes, and how, if at all, I was paying into Social Security and Medicare, so automatically I picked up the phone.

And realized.

So, right now, I'm just a crazy, mixed-up kid. 40 is the new 20, right?