An Ode to the Cancerian Men in my Life

An Ode to the Cancerian Men in my Life

This is a really wonderful picture of my dad and grandpa, my mom’s dad, taken just after my mom and dad’s graduation. My parents met at Edinburgh University, where my dad was doing his PhD and my mom, her MA. My mom and everyone on her side of the family are from Scotland.

I was in Edinburgh, Scotland for Father’s Day this year, which felt fitting. Father’s Day- and the days leading up to it- have been hard days for me ever since my dad died (it’ll be 10 years at the end of August.) But this year felt different. I arrived in Edinburgh a few days before Father’s day, and felt so much of my dad’s presence. He loved this place just as much as my mom, or more. I ran into the David Hume statue and knew I had found a statue of one of my dad’s heroes. I saw Greyfriar’s Bobby, the touristy pub that my mom recently told me she and my dad had gone to on one of their first dates, and my dad gave her a “biscuit tray, tin and music box that played ‘Danny Boy’.” It was also her birthday on that date, I think. I saw Deacan Brody’s, where I went with my dad and sister at the end of my sister’s study abroad semester (Also at Edinburgh University.)

I knew how happy my dad and grandpa would be that I was there. These Cancerian family men really cared about keeping our transatlantic family together, and I had felt for awhile how sad they would be to see the state of things today. I made this trip, in part, to do what I can to bridge the gap. A cancerian woman, my birthday is right between theirs’: a day after my grandpa’s and exactly 2 weeks before my dad’s.

In recent years, our family spread across the Atlantic, have been more and more out of touch and I had felt my dad and grandpa would both be sad to see the state of things.

Back from Scotland, yesterday I visited my mom and showed her these photos that my aunt gave me while I was there. My mom loved them. When she saw this one, she put into words what I was thinking, how my grandpa looks proud of my dad in this photo. This means a lot knowing everything that came after.

I had a grief day looking through the photos again myself, listening to Tori Amos.

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