Five years.
August 16th, 2006 . by mattI do love that David Bowie song, Five Years. There is something about it that really makes me feel OK.
It’s the fifth year anniversary of my father’s death, today. For some reason I’m feeling his absence more than I have in a long time. I’m not one for keeping track of anniversaries. I’m terrible at remembering birthdays, or “this is the day we first met!” days. If it weren’t for online calendars I really doubt that anyone would ever get a birthday wish from me.
But this year for some reason today just stood out. I don’t want to think too much about why. Maybe I thought I’d be somewhere else five years ago without Dad around… married, or internationally famous, or maybe even a father, myself. I don’t wish for any of those things now, though, so I’m not sure what it’s all about. Perhaps the things that I am proud of are things that I wish I could share with him now.
We have a Cabaret Kiki show next week. Dad would have really really loved the Cabaret. In fact, so much of him is in our show. I like to say that the show wouldn’t exist without everything I learned from my mother (who will be able to come and see, for the first time!), but the truth is that my character, Jonny Panick, couldn’t possibly do and say the things he does if I didn’t have John Bivins for inspiration. His sense of humor. His love of the dark and dirty, racy and ribauld. The melodramatic selfishness. And most importantly, his subversive nature. He was indie long before indie was cool. Or ironic. Whatever.
That’s it. It’s hard. Five years later, it’s much easier. But it’s never going to be gone, that ache. I’m not asking it to… don’t get me wrong. It’s fuel, and I use it up. He certainly did, and I don’t want to disappoint. But gosh I wish he was still here, sometimes.
Don’t get me wrong, but I’m glad it still aches. Don’t ever stop using it. Ever. **hug** And he DOES love the cabaret and he IS proud.
When I was 14 I lost my father to colon cancer. I will not pretend to know exactly how you feel, because no two people experience something like this the same way. But I will promise that I empathize completely with these feelings. It’s been nearly 14 years now since he’s been gone (wow, can that really be right? I’ve lived half my life since then?) - I’ve had some big accomplishments in that time period, events in my life that I wish more than anything that he was standing beside me for, and yet I know in my heart of hearts that he is proud of me, that he has been with me through all of those accomplishments and at all of those important life events and changes.
So Matt, I guess what I’m saying, is that even though I never met your father, I’m sure he was an amazing man, and I’m positive that he’s proud of you and that he’s still with you now.
My condolences on your loss.
What you and Julie say makes sense to me. I lost my dad, too — October 2004, and lung cancer. It is weird, to be able to recognize the powerful effect that grief has on creativity — it jump-starts it because you feel like you must do SOMETHING. And, at the same time your head knows to use the ache as “fuel,” it’s still very much there.
I know your dad would’ve loved to be sitting there at Kiki. And, in the ways you wrote about, he will be. And be encouraged; your writing about this (and Evan’s using his grief in song) helps others to face their own ache. Thank you for that.