The Lost Day

As was pointed out to me today by the ever-observant Larry, there was no post for yesterday. For those of you that live by my words, breath by my insight, depend on the wit of my boundlessly clever mind to sustain you through the cold, hard world of people that don't understand triathlon (or procrastinating for that matter), I apologize. I admit that I knew there was no post when I collapsed into my bed at 1130pm. I felt a little bad, but then thought, "Yo, it's 'Project Procrastination,' not Do-It-RIght-Now-Obsessive-Freak" so I figured I could live a day without posting.

In hindsight (yesterday being so very far away that it requires hindsight)I guess maybe unconsciously I wanted to pretend the day didn't exist. See, December 2 is the anniversery of my dad's death, which happened three years ago yesterday. He was diagnosed with lung cancer in May 2003, and died six very short months later. My relatiosnhip with him was complex, at best, but I cared for him full-time when he was sick. When he died, I was 26, had three younger siblings, one estranged mother (my parents were in the middle of a divorce when he was diagnosed and she had moved to Arizona), and a lot of childhood baggage that I was trying to manage. And even though I was technically an adult, I was reduced to a bumbling, insecure 12 year-old who had no idea what she was doing, if she was helping, or how to even talk to her father who, most of the time, was cognitively impaired from the cancer in his brain. After all, isn't it the parents who are supposed to comfort the kids, take care of them when they are sick, give the medicine and tell them they will be okay in a couple of days? I was confused, sad, rageful, hopeless, and just about every other emotion that I could tolerate acknoweldging.

To commemorate the day, my sisters and I went to church (I know- me in a church, and it didn't explode - wonders never cease to amaze) and then out to breakfast. It amazes me how much happened in the last three years. Crazy E, the sister just younger than me, got married and is preggers with her first child. Dynamite D is engaged, and bought a condo, in which I currently reside with her and her fiance since me and Larry split after more than three years (yes, that Larry - we began dating the day my dad got diagnosed, but more on that later, or never). And that's just scratching the surface of a REALLY deep swimming pool (no wonder I am afraid of drowning). My mom is now home in Chicago, relationships have repaired, I completed my doctorate and am training for an IM. I know three years is a long time, but the death still feels so fresh, so its weird to think about how much time has actually passed.

Anyway, that's my long-winded excuse for my delinquent post. I hope it sufices, that you all understand. Oddly enough, having this site has somewhat increased my responsibility level, so I feel compelled to write and expalin myself. Well, better to you then to my dad, 'cause at least I won't get a reduced curfew for posting late...

I'm out