Four years ago today my dad dropped dead of a heart attack in his driveway, alone, putting away Christmas decorations. I think of my dad especially whenever I cook as he taught us kids "bachelor cooking" (industrial portions of easy to prepare dishes, often built around ground beef - I made his taco recipe tonight). It's been a difficult time since, and I'm particularly grateful to my younger sister for coming to my aid in order that I not lose everything. She stepped in in the nick of time to take care of things that had overwhelmed me and that I had let fall by the wayside. My older brother, being the first born, looks at much of the struggles that I deal with as more of a character deficiency, but he is also tremendously supportive in his own way. I very much wish I was more like him.

In 1988, while looking for my birth certificate in my dad's strongbox for a new job I was starting, I learned my mother's death was actually a suicide. My dad always told us she died of heart failure, which was true, though it was the result of ingesting poison. It happened a few weeks before my 2nd birthday. My sister had not even turned 6 months.

For many years after that, I carried great resentment and hurt for her abandoning us. I only later in life let my dad know that I knew (during an argument in fact, I'm ashamed to admit), but regret never trying to get further details from him. I kinda figured he would have volunteered it on his own had he the mind to. No doubt it hurt him beyond measure as well. My guess is that post-partum depression played a part. My dad raised all three of us to adulthood on his own. All of us siblings inherited depressive tendencies from my mother. Eventually, it put into better perspective for me what she must have gone through in her life, cut short. I remember when it occured to me that I had reached an age older than her when she died. I felt as lost then as I often do now. I am the middle child, with many of the textbook traits of that birth order, with an older brother who also fits that mold. My younger sister grew up in a household being the only girl, with few female role models in her life. She has grown into a wonderfully capable and caring woman.

He was remarried for the first and only time maybe 6-8 years before his death to a woman he had lived with and traveled the world together on cruise ships. He was happy, which was all that mattered to us, though I saw her as someone who viewed the world through the lens of Fox News. He died without a will, and that is when her true colors came out. It seemed she went out of her way to hurt his children, going above and beyond just ensuring she got her portion of his estate as his widow. It is only by a tremendous effort and the good fortune of selfless friends, that my sister got to stay in the house we were raised in... the one that my dad had always intended for her to live in once he had passed.

I am an atheist, so I have no expectations of any reckoning in an afterlife, but can't imagine he would forgive her for the hurt and anxiety she caused his children. I know I never will. I wish her every bit of poetic justice that she could possibly suffer in this life. No doubt that is being childishly petty on my part, but there you have it. She is cluelessly surprised that we have all cut her out of our lives. Kathleen Holmes, you are a terrible person, but the type who will never be introspective enough to realize that on your own. Should anyone make the mistake of inviting me to your funeral, I will share that observation with them as well.

It still hurts that friends from school days that knew my dad did not attend the service, though I had made it a point to attend those for their parents who died years before. At the funeral of one friend's father, he actually said, "You're lucky. You didn't know your mom since you were so young when she died, so it wouldn't have hurt as much." I just let it pass chalking it up to his own grief, but I was still dumbfounded.

My close friends from work all showed, which was quite powerfully moving and comforting to me. In looking at the notice I posted four years ago and reading the comments, one dear friend has since died of cancer, another is struggling to survive her cancer as well, and a couple have since unfriended me (for not voting Hillary).

I want to thank all my family and friends, including my online friends here, for being so caring and supportive. I have people in my life wondering why I waste any time on social media. Mostly to learn and pass that knowledge on in things that are important to me such as justice and activism. I see so much horror and suffering by those who would give anything to have the love and joy and security that I have known. I know others are crushed by the cruel realities of our world, but am also heartened that they are not the type to turn away, no matter how painful. Neither am I.

I am also grateful to you all for the love and support I get from you daily. I hope I return whatever small measure of that in kind as best I am able. I've cut out my dad's missus from the photo as her impact on our family is much too painful. That gives me a modicum of satisfaction as it allows me to remember my dad as just that... my dad. Who always loved me no matter what, and who I will love so very deeply for all my days, until there are no more days to come.

In the eulogy I gave at his service, I said that all my good traits come directly from him, and that my many faults are exclusively my own. The truth of that makes me smile. I am quite content with who he helped me become as a person... warts and all. And I thank you all for your friendship, and contributing so much to my appreciating the journey we travel together, both the joys and the sorrows. I hope the days each of us have left involves an abundance of joy, and sorrows that we are both able to manage, and use to provide comfort to others, in our shared humanity.