Love, Loss and High-Fiving the Universe
Grief sounds like... Lil Wayne?
Welcome to another edition of Love, Peace, and Tacos, a weekly newsletter where I share what I’m feeling, loving, and eating.
Back in April (!!), I was interviewed on as part of their On Rejection series. Read the interview if you’re curious about how getting fired from not one — but two — desk jobs gave me the push to become a full-time writer. Also, be sure to check out the latest episode of We’re Never Doing This Again.
Hi friends,
Today, I’m supposed to be writing an article on “Fall Window Treatment Trends” and instead, I’m mentally drafting my Dad’s eulogy. It’s also important to note that I’ve had Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up” stuck in my head for the past 24 hours. If this doesn’t say “My mind is in utter chaos,” I’m not sure what does.
My dad passed away three weeks ago after a heartbreaking battle with Alzheimer’s. Reciting Lil’ Wayne verses to myself aside, I am doing as well as can be expected given the circumstances.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve thought a lot about what I wanted to share about my dad and my grieving process. While I’m no stranger to (over)sharing about my life online (there was a point in the 2010s when seemingly no topic was off limits) writing about my family has always been something I’ve shied away from. As a result, very few people outside of my family and immediate friend group knew my Dad was sick.
I can’t stop thinking about my Dad, but I also have no idea how I can sum up his 76 years of life. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, my go-to coping mechanism is to make a list (hi, I’m a Virgo!)
So, here are 10 things to know about my Dad, Gary.
My Dad had an illustrious career but enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. He could be happy almost anywhere as long as he had his coffee and a newspaper. He liked his coffee black, blue-grey dress shirts (usually worn with a sweater on top), talking about airplanes & his walks. He was perpetually curious, loved to read, and enjoyed exploring the world on foot - things that I like to think he passed on to my sister and me.
My Dad would walk nearly anywhere — rain or shine. I’d often receive, “I just saw your dad!” texts from friends who'd spotted him out & about (briskly walking) in his neighborhood and around downtown. Once, while visiting me in Toronto, he spent the afternoon walking around the city during a blizzard…and loved it. The things that other people found uncomfortable or unpleasant, Dad saw as an adventure.
He loved books. He read voraciously, constantly, and obsessively (I also get this from him). One of the first things he’d ask whenever he came over was, “Got any new books I can read?” During the first part of any visit, he’d be distracted; visually scanning the spines whatever was on my bookshelf. I used to find this quirk annoying, now I miss it terribly.
Gary loved a good mystery. I remember a few years ago, before he retired he told me about this Scandinavian Noir series he was really into. “It’s about a father and daughter who solve mysteries together,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. I couldn’t help but think that maybe this was part of his retirement plan. I’m sad that we didn’t have enough time to become the crime-solving duo he envisioned.
He could be absent-minded — likely because his mind was ten steps ahead and focused on the next problem or mystery he had to solve — but also incredibly lucky. He would frequently leave behind his belongings at restaurants and cafes, only to go back a few hours later and find them exactly where he left him — and somehow make a new friend in the process.
He was a man of contradictions. He was vocal in his dislike of potatoes but was a chronic French fry stealer. He disdained capitalism but took delight in winning at Monopoly. He rarely swore or used profanity but the one time he played Cards Against Humanity, he won every hand.
He was a minimalist in nearly every aspect of his life. One of his few indulgences was going out for dinner. When my sister and I were kids, he had this dinnertime bit where he’d say, “Hi I’m Gary, I’ll be your waiter tonight,” (in a goofy voice) before serving our food. He went to the Keg once (in the 1980s) and thought it was hilarious when his server did this. Our Dad romanticized the service industry — and apparently, according to my mom, at one point fantasized about opening his own espresso bar. This brings me to my next point:
Gary never worked in the service industry. He did, however, find other ways of being of service. I’ll never fully understand everything that he did at work, but I know that he helped a lot of people. He always wanted to do what was right and in service of the greater good. Even once he was in long-term care, he took pleasure in helping the nurses. Whenever he wasn’t speed walking around the ward, he would frequently visit their office for “meetings” and to talk “strategy.” I learned after he passed that he’d often sit bedside and hold the hand of other residents who he thought were having a hard time.
I think what I’ll miss most about our Dad is his full body, Muppet-like excitement whenever he’d see his kids. When he saw you approaching, he’d hold out his hands in a high five or a high ten until you returned the gesture, a huge smile on his face. One time, I decided to experiment and see what would happen if I didn’t do anything. He just kept his hands out, waiting for the high five, smiling — I think because he knew the universe would meet him halfway.
My dad and I didn’t have a perfect relationship. After my parent’s separated, I spent most of my young adult years keeping him at arm’s length. But no matter how much I pushed him away, he kept showing up. He didn’t always get it right, but he showed up — imperfectly yet consistently. In the end, that’s what matters.
Dad, this is for you.
I love you and miss you so much.
As I process the loss of my dad, thank you for allowing me to show up imperfectly. I’m still easing back into writing but I look forward to sharing more soon.
In the meantime, please see below for some joy-filled bits, bobs & links.
Things I’m loving 💖
Water infused with lemons, limes, and cucumbers. At a time when it feels like I’m functioning on auto-pilot, taking the time in the morning to cut up citrus fruits and add them to my water jug in the fridge feels like a small but delicious act of self-care.
Flavortrip mixes. This DJ duo plays feel-good house music in beautiful locations while preparing delicious food + drink (three of my favorite things!) I don’t know when exactly the music I used to do drugs to turned into my workday/workout soundtrack, but I’m here for it.
Paying attention to nature. In the days immediately following my Dad’s passing, I noticed the birds outside my window seemed extra loud (my Dad was an avid birdwatcher) and the colors of the blossoms around my neighborhood were supercharged. Paying extra attention to these things has provided me with a sense of peace.
Jury Duty. The TV show — not the civic responsibility (although I feel like I’d love that too?!) If you need a mood boost, I cannot say enough good things about this feel-good, laugh out loud, show. Two words: chair pants (IYKYK).
What show/youtube/album/book/restaurant are you loving right now? Hit reply or the comment button and send me all of your feel-good suggestions!
Love, Peace, and Tacos,
Simone