The Dead Dad's Club

I'm not a fan of Grey's Anatomy anymore - honestly, that's another subject for an entire post that's inconsequential right now (but I'll give you a hint - the subject of the post begins with "i" and rhymes with ginfidelity).

But, there was a quote that I heard, that was completely inapplicable at the time - and I heard it when I was still a faithful fan of the show. And little did I know that it that foretold my future:

Cristina: "There's a club. The Dead Dads Club. And you can't be in it until you're in it. You can try to understand, you can sympathize. But until you feel that loss... My dad died when I was nine. George, I'm really sorry you had to join the club."

George: "I... I don't know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn't."

Cristina: "Yeah, that never really changes."

But the timing of the quote in my life is not the point of this post.

I found out about two weeks ago that my best friend's father died, suddenly. Very suddenly. He was on a vacation with his wife, three daughters, three son-in-laws and six grandchildren. He went out for a run and was gone. And that was it.

And it made me realize, that this damn club exists. And it's a club that you become a member of even though you kick and scream, trying to deny yourself admittance. A club whose membership cuts your heart and torments your mind. A club that has rendered me incapable of reviewing or ordering my wedding pictures because I can't admit that the person in those photos is gone forever. A club whose membership is not transferable - as much as you would give up the membership card in a minute.

It's a shitty club and I never wanted anyone that I knew, or loved, to become a member of it.

And for some reason, these two best friends - members of the same club, have been avoiding each other. We have spoken via email, and she expressed her concern that speaking to me would make her whole situation real. And I completely understood. In fact, I purposely ignored certain friends in my life when my dad died so that I could keep them compartmentalized from my immense pain.

But, I decided, as painful as it might be to talk to me - I had to be there for her. I had to put aside my own pain and risk the fact that speaking to me might cause her more pain. I called her cell phone and it went straight to voice mail. But I left her a message and told her to call me because I loved her. And I missed her. And I would never leave her.

And I wanted to make sure that if she had to join this club, that I was there to make her passage over the welcome mat just a tad easier.

Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers.