I Googled My Dead Dad

Yup, I googled my dad.  Weird right? I mean, a week from today he'll have been dead for exactly 11 years.  I'll be visiting my best friend Amy in Atlanta on "that day" next week and I'll be sitting in her driveway having a beer with her, watching our kids play, toasting both of our deceased dads. It really is impossible to fathom that it's been 11 years.  But last week I randomly found myself googling his name.  I'm not sure what I was looking for.  Just something.  Anything really.  I guess I was looking for some proof that the world hadn't completely forgotten him.  He died before social media was really a thing and he was "computer challenged" .  He was a blue collar worker after all, so he didn't spend his days on a computer.  Mom taught him enough to burn CDs on her computer.  His love of music outweighed his lack of computer skills.  He made us all CDs with compilations of his favorite songs and artists.  He wrote the contents of the CD on the CD itself.    I love that they have his handwriting.

Anyways, I googled him and it was heartbreaking.  Mostly because there wasn't much to find except for various versions of his death announcement.  This particular one stopped me in my tracks.   I love his handsome senior photo.  I think what paralyzed me is the part that says "he came to rest in the southbound lane".   Shit.  Of course I knew he came off the bike when he hit the deer and that he sustained serious injuries.  I mean, hello?  He did die from the whole mess.  But I guess I hadn't thought about exactly where he "came to rest" - the southbound lane of Highway 131 at milepost 18 in Eagle County, CO.  And I hadn't before considered exactly how the bike went spinning.  I guess I knew all of this, I just hadn't read it all strung together like this.  It's all so vivid and violent in my head now. 11 freaking years later and today it feels fresh.   Weird how it's been so long and things are still making me realize this was real.  That it actually happened.  That he is for real gone.   But something about visualizing him laying in that southbound lane...it's very fresh all over again.  Fuck.  My mom and sister have both been to visit that place.  I have not.  Yet.  Not sure I want to.  Even though it's the last place he was, it's not where he is.

I'd like to point out that this little article makes a point to mention he was not wearing a helmet and he sustained serious head injuries.  Dude - he hit a deer going probably 50-60 mph on a motorcycle.  It saddens me to say that the helmet would not have helped.  Even if it had, he would have still been left in a terrible state and he always said he wouldn't want to live like that.  Although I don't discount helmets and everyone should wear one.

Googling him got me to thinking.   At first I was upset that there wasn't much to find.  That in this electronic age, he didn't have a footprint.  It's like he wasn't here at all.  I pondered on that for a few days.  But that's a lie.  His real life footprint was huge for those that loved him.  Look, he wasn't a saint. I feel like when we write about him, it's like he's been sainted.  Listen, he was far from perfect.  He did some stupid shit in his day (like not wearing a helmet when riding his motorcycle).  But he was ours and he was perfect for us.  Fuck the electronic footprint.  That doesn't mean we are here any more than the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is here.  It's what we do in real life that matters.  He was here, along with so many others that died before the social media and internet age. They were here. They mattered.

Every year I say this is the last year I'm going to write about him.  That it's time.  That nobody wants to read about this depressing shit anymore.

But then that feels a little like letting the world forget.  And I don't want to do that either.