A year later

It's been a year since my dad died. A whole year. The firsts-without him didn't feel as difficult to get through as they did with Emily, but his death wasn't unpredictable or sudden without time to attempt to emotionally prepare. There have been hard days, though. Going to see the Backstreet Boys brought back some memories. The Boys came to New Orleans back in November of 1999. Back then, we had a Ticketmaster inside the Maison Blanche department store of the mall because you couldn't just hop online to buy tickets as easily as today. The day before the tickets went on sale, there was a line of giddy fans wrapping around the corner of the building from the store entrance, past Maison Blanche, all the way to Sears at the end before it cornered again. Dad got lucky and nabbed a spot right near the entrance. During the era of tangible tickets, people would camp out, hoping to get to the front of the line first for the best seats as they were first-come, first-pick. Dad managed to get five in a row for Mom, Emily, Daina, Jena, and me, but not as close as we wanted. At that time, I didn't care. I was going to see the Backstreet Boys! Daina and Jena spent the night that weekend and we decided to take white shoe polish to decorate Dad's big van he used as a vanpool. I had just turned 16 and was so crazy for Nick Carter. We made Dad listen to the Millennium album on our way to New Orleans while we sang very loudly from the back seat. He dropped us off and parked nearby to wait out the duration of the concert before picking us up again. He did it all again the following February when they came back for a "second leg" tour.

I liked doing things with Dad. Some days, he'd take me to work with him. I'd go to bed early and wake up at 5am. He always let me sit up front. I still get those memories when Zac drives us to New Orleans. There wasn't much to do in Dad's office except become proficient in Solitaire. On his lunch break, we'd go to the cafeteria and eat together or we'd take a walk to the Riverwalk and watch the ferries. Neither one of us talked much, but it was just nice being in his company. He brought me squirrel hunting a few times, until I watched him clean one and decided not to go anymore. And I always went with him when he needed to fill up the gas tanks because he let me pick out candy. The lick-a-sticks were my favorite, though nowadays the idea of eating that much sugar makes me cringe.

I miss my dad all the time. I miss his random phone calls where he'd repeat himself and tell a goofy joke, or he'd ask how I'm doing and let me talk to him. He was always proud of me and told me so often. I'm just going to try to continue making him proud.