525,600 Minutes in Magical Realism

It’s been a year now that my dad’s been gone. I think in some ways this has been both the hardest and most the most amazing year of my life. Swimming in Siberia. The China trip and my first time winning prize money for swimming. The Antarctica marathon. Swimming in Antarctica. The Ice Swimming World Championships. I never thought I’d be a US champion, let alone a World champion in anything, no matter how obscure. Argentina again, and the monster relay. My Lake Geneva solo.

Oh how tickled by all of it he would be.

And oh how I would love to sit down with him and talk a bit about this life-changing year.

He never knew about my cancer. I found out just a couple of weeks before he died, and the surgery and everything was just before his funeral. I think it was better that he never knew. Looking back it’s crazy to me how all of that awfulness took place almost simultaneously, in the midst of my busiest work season. I guess better to get it out of the way all at once? Considering how much even this “normal” busy season is kicking my ass, I have no idea how I got through last year. To be completely honest, I’ve been a mess this year, even while functioning well on the surface. Wonder when I’ll feel “normal” again.

The other day I was at my mom’s house, I brought her some things including two copies of the Swiss paper with the article my Lake Geneva swim. We looked at it and I translated it for her, and after a bit she went into the other room.

I took one of the newspapers and put it by my dad’s usual place at the head of the kitchen table. It seemed so bare without his reading glasses, stack of detective novels, and papers to read. I opened it up to my spread and placed it carefully, like I was leaving it there for him to read.

Last updated October 15, 2015