I will admit, since last October, life has been weird. I appreciate all of you sticking with me during my “sporadic writing phase.” It’s kind of like Picasso’s “blue period,” just not as… well, blue. Or paint-y. Definitely not as paint-y. Or hanging in a museum. Okay, fine. So, it’s not like Picasso’s blue period. Happy now? Sheesh.
Today would’ve been my Dad’s 78th birthday. Yeah. It’s still all so strange. We had his memorial last month. We’d been holding off for a number of reasons, not least of which, we simply did not want to officially say goodbye. There were military honors, and they gave my Mom a flag. One of his siblings spoke about his life. It was a lovely ceremony. I wanted to speak as well, but my severe anxiety, as it so often does, got the best of me. I think my Dad would’ve understood though. Neither of us were known for lengthy conversations, though we knew the love was there. That, we had in spades. As they are wont to say, we have closure, whatever the hell that means. All I know is, my heart still hurts.
And now, it’s summer. In our family, we all knew what that meant.
Hope the fishing’s good where you are, Dad.
sending condoleances = and remember you are part of his essence and legacy = and that should bring a smile – it does for me – because I have my father’s eyes – his kindness – and his smarts – and this helps when I miss him.
I feel for you – never easy to say goodbye.
I can relate to “sporadic.” More importantly, there’s no doubt that your dad feels the love you put into the universe.