Jan. 26 -- getting up to speed

My father died of covid on Jan. 21. He tested positive on Jan. 6, went to the hospital on the 11th, went on a ventilator the morning of Jan 16, got taken off during the inauguration on Jan 20 and died a day later. He would have been 81 on March 19, 2021.

He lived in Cherokee Village, Arkansas. I live in Portland, Oregon. I'm unable to travel there because of covid. So, I have been making arrangements via phone. Almost everyone I call knew my dad. The person at the funeral home "Oh yeah, I know yer dad, he went to the same church. They sat one pew in front of us and a few seats down." The real estate company, too, knew my dad. He has neighbors who were a huge help for him and are a huge help now. I've been connected to his pastor at his church too. 

These are all people who are new to me. My dad moved to Arkansas in 2002. It was a confusing choice at the time. He was born in Denver, but lived in Portland since he was 9 years old. He worked at Tekronix in Beaverton for many years until he was laid off in the 1990s as technology was changing. This is where he met my mom. He grew up in North Portland and went to Jefferson High School. By the time I came into the picture, his parents lived in a house on 24th and Caruthers, one block north of Division. After his parents died, he lived in the house for a while, and eventually settled on moving to property in Arkansas. 

He lived on Lake Thunderbird, on the border of Sharp and Fulton Counties in Northeast Arkansas. I visited him four times total out there. It is gorgeous, in the foothills of the Ozarks.

I love him very much. I am navigating the estate process on my own. I have a lot of support from family and friends, but I'm his only heir, and ultimately it's a lonely place to be in. A singular flow of heredity and memories. I feel a responsibility and desire to keep his life fresh in my memory and therefore still existent in the world. When my mom died, I remember feeling her presence just on the other side of a gauze curtain, that all she or I had to do was reach through and we'd see each other again. Since my dad wasn't in my day to day life, I don't feel that as much, and I'm even more afraid of his life sifting through my fingers like sand, the individual grains pouring into the great expanse of a coast line and losing their identity. 

I miss him so much.