Patrick Calder

NY, Day 4

NY, Day 2

Texas Day 3

Texas Day 2

2009 in Photos

I just posted my annual collection of photos, for 2009. (Yes… a little late). Same as always: It’s a collection of photos I took last year. The criteria for inclusion is subjective. Some I liked for technical reasons. Some for aesthetic reasons. Some were important events or people, (or cats). Some… I just felt should be in there. They’re not the best of the best… they’re just 2009.

In past years, I’ve felt like I didn’t do much. But towards the end of last year, going through my archives, I was reminded of how much had gone on, and with who. Flipping through these photos made me very happy.

Dad

My father died on January 5. It’s a horrible thing to contemplate. It’s a macabre thing to discuss with the doctors. And it is without a doubt, the worst feeling I’ve ever had, when it finally happened.

And yet I’ve had very little obvious reaction. I cried the morning it happened, and came close a couple times in the following days. The funeral and calling hours were difficult, but more for dealing with all the people and their reactions. I miss him, and can’t really grasp the idea that I will never see him again. We never talked frequently to begin with, since neither of us handled phone calls well. Maybe it just seems like another lull between calls.

It really seems like it should have affected me in some obvious, drastic way. The only thing I might even mildly associate with it was shutting down a bit. Reverting slightly to the closed off nature I’d been trying to shed. I’m hoping it’s temporary.

I said to his wife: In his last 10 or 15 years, he travelled, he had a woman who would put up with him, he had new toys, he got back together with his family and his roots. He had friends and indulged in vices and hobbies. He had pets and grandchildren. I can’t think of anything else in life that could have made those years better for him. He did what made him happy, and that’s all I find important.

Please don’t offer me advice or reassurance in the comments to this. This isn’t reaching out for help. This is just talking.

The day of my father’s funeral

From left to right: his daughter Reta, his brother Jerry Don, his aunt Alene, his sister-in-law Linda, his uncle David, and his wife Ann.

Dad

David “Chunky” Calder

June 1, 1940–January 5, 2010

T. Neil Calder: October 23, 1952 - November 1, 2009

ending

My uncle is dying. He’s a good man. I’ve often said he’s the white sheep of the family. But I don’t really have much I want to say about that here.

It sounds like he’s out of it at least as much as he’s coherent. I don’t know which side of that is worse. While it’s awful to see your loved ones without any idea what’s happening around them, I can’t imagine being coherent enough to know that you only probably have a few days to live.