It seems like a social media rite of passage to write about quitting Facebook. Many hate its privacy (or anti-privacy) policies. Then there’s the company’s brazen admittance that it messed with its users emotions. I get it. I’m not a fan (friend?), either. I’ve deactivated my account before, and I haven’t had the mobile app in years. But I still have a profile, and I still like and occasionally make comments, but my updates are minimal. It’s Facebook Purgatory.
The last time I spent time with my Dad, before the end, was around June 5, 2011. He had just recovered from surgery, and I wanted to see him and spend a couple of days with him. We went to Chicago Street Deli in Shawnee, Oklahoma, I took a huge coffee to go. He drove us to the part of Shawnee that had the country club and newer developments. We used to do that every Saturday the last time I lived in Shawnee (around 2000-2003). We wouldn’t talk much, just enjoy each other’s company as he pointed out if someone we knew still lived in a house. We always made fun of one house that had a garish orange color. Then we drove back to the house where I grew up. I didn’t know at the time it would be the last time I spent time with Dad when he was well, but it will always be one of my most favorite memories of him.