I am seeing my dad this Friday.
I last saw my father at my grandmother’s funeral in 2017. Though I do not remember seeing him then. I flew in the morning of the ceremony, wore all pink (it was her favorite), gave a eulogy, ate at Javier’s (I had the steak entree with cheese in it, people from Dallas will know the one I mean), ordered room service (creme brulee), and flew home the next day. I know, for certain, my dad was there. But when I replay scenes from that day, he’s absent from my memory. It’s funny how memory works. Do we remember the most important moments or do moments become important because we remember them? It’s a distinction without a difference.
My last memory of my father is from a few months before, shortly after my grandmother was diagnosed with the pancreatic cancer that killed her quickly.