“If” Has a Long Tale - July 10th, 2021
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
My dad’s funeral will be Friday, July 16th, at 11 AM. Viewing at 10 AM. It will take place at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Corvallis, Oregon. All are welcome.
—
If my dad was actually dead, I’d be paralyzed. If he was actually dead, I wouldn’t be able to write. If he was actually dead, I wouldn’t be able to laugh. If he was actually dead.
“If” has a long tale.
My dad really liked saying that. He often coupled it with, “Excuses are like assholes. We all have them, and they all stink.” He attributed both of these thoughts to his father — he liked distancing himself just one degree from that sort of gruffness.
“If” has a long tale.
If my dad was actually dead, I wouldn’t be able to play basketball. I wouldn’t be able to lift weights. I wouldn’t be able to ride a bike. I wouldn’t be able to play pool. I wouldn’t be able to dance. If my dad was actually dead.
If my dad was actually dead, I’d be saving all of his voicemails. I’d be writing down everything he ever said to me. I’d be looking at pictures of him all day, every day. I’d be rifling through every single piece of information I could find about him, and talking to every single person who knew him. I’d be gathering stories. I’d be collecting all of the little pieces of himself that he put into the world. I’d be trying to put him back together. If he was actually dead.
“If” has a long tale.
If my dad was actually dead, I wouldn’t have to remind myself every ten minutes that I’m never going to be able to talk to him again. I wouldn’t have to stop myself from going to his bedroom to say, “What’s up, Pops!” I wouldn’t have to look at my mom and sister and say to myself, “There are only three of us. There are only three of us.” If my dad was actually dead, I wouldn’t have to do any of that. If my dad was actually dead.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have found out everything there was to know about DVTs when he had his first one five years ago. I would have made it my life’s work to make sure that he did what he was supposed to do to take care of himself. I would have made sure that every time he drove me to the airport, he got out of the car and walked around for a bit. I would have learned every single sign of a DVT. I would have known that once you have one, if it’s a really bad one, that you’re never really out of the woods. I would have known the way they travel from the leg to the lungs. I would have known what the symptoms were. If my dad was actually dead, I would have known what was going on these past few weeks.
If my dad was actually dead, I would not have gone down to Los Angeles when I thought his leg looked a bit more discolored than usual. I would not have left home when I knew that he hadn’t been feeling well. I would have called him every single afternoon and asked him how his leg was doing. I would have asked him if the pain in his back was in a specific location. I would have taken him to the hospital, and I would have said it was worth it because it’s better to be safe than sorry.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
If my dad was actually dead, I would not have left home when he wasn’t feeling well.
If my dad was actually dead, I would find the person who misdiagnosed him in 2016, and I would let her know that my dad is actually dead. If my dad was actually dead, I would make it known that every single doctor that was charmed by my dad and wanted to be equally charming in return should have to go through what I’m going through. I’d make them. If my dad was actually dead, I’d become obsessed with the medical field, obsessed with how so many people could be so negligent in making sure that an entire family knew how much danger their father was in. If my dad was actually dead.
“If” has a long tale.
If my dad was actually dead, I wouldn’t be able to walk. I wouldn’t be able to talk. I wouldn’t be able to continue my own life, because my life is not a life without my dad in it. If my dad was actually dead.
If my dad was actually dead, I wouldn’t be able to stop after five drinks. I wouldn’t be able to go for a run without crying. I wouldn’t be able to eat food without vomiting. I wouldn’t be able to talk about anything other than my dad being dead. If my dad was actually dead.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
If my dad was actually dead, I would dedicate the rest of my life to making him proud. I would wake up every single day and I would ask myself what I could be doing to honor him. I would live every moment like it was my last, and wish that many moments were. I would fight the good fight, I would teach, I would love. If my dad was actually dead, I’d build a family for him, I’d build a life for him, I’d lift others as I climbed for him.
“If” has a long tale.
If my dad was actually dead, the ripples of his death would be infinite. Every single relationship I had would be different. Every single thing I did would be less. If my dad was actually dead, I would have to look at my entire life — my friends, my work, my location, my everything — and ask myself if it should be.
If my dad was actually dead, I would be so much lonelier. I would feel like no one understood me, I would think that no one knew why I was the way that I was. If my dad was actually dead, I would not know who to talk to when things got hard. I would not know which books to read, I would not know which people to hug, I would not know where I should go. If my dad was actually dead, I would not know who I should be.
If my dad was actually dead, all of the ripples of his pulsing force in my life would gradually go away. And my life would suddenly be flat.
“If” has a long tale.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
I would have stayed home.
I wouldn’t have worked so much.
I would have become obsessed with why his leg was permanently purple.
I would have become obsessed with why his leg was permanently purple.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
I would have talked to him about death.
I would have talked to him about what I was supposed to do if he died.
I would have talked to him about his life, and what about his life I didn’t know.
I would have talked to him about what he thought I should do with my life.
I would have savored every single moment with him.
I would have savored every single moment with him.
I would have stayed home.
If my dad was actually dead, I would have done more to save him.
If my dad was actually dead, I’d be paralyzed. If he was actually dead, I wouldn’t be able to write. If he was actually dead, I wouldn’t be able to laugh.
If he was actually dead.
“If” has a long tale.
Emmett, you will always have your dad as no one else will have him. That version of him - as a father is to a son, as he was to you and you to him - is your's forever.
I graduated from OSU in 2019. He liked that I was sticking it to the man by studying a liberal art (poli sci) at an engineering school. I remember him mentioning you once when we were chatting during his office hours. Forgive me if I get these details wrong, but it was something along the lines of you had helped someone move in New York, I think it was? Oh yeah, it was, cause he also mentioned you went to Vassar (at least I think that was the school. I'm alright with looking like an idiot here if it wasn't). Don't ask me why I remember these details but I do. Anyway, he mentioned that you had called him and told him that a picture of either the apartment that you had helped someone move into or a piece of furniture that you had helped with ended up in the Times for some reason. And he said that you had told him that that's the closest you'll ever come to making it into the Times. He thought that was funny.
Guess I just wanted you to know that he talked about you. I'm planning on finishing "The Brothers Karamazov" in his honor. One day, at least.
- Ally