I wish this day could be a celebration-of-life day. But it's not. I wish I can mark this day by doing something he loved. But I don't. I wish my family can look back on this day and remember his life, not his death. But we can't.
This day sucks. Still. It's sad. Still. I just want to forget it. Still.
I opened the hallway closet the other day and squatted down to get Luna one of her special twirly rawhide treats that we keep in her little drawer in there. The Peanut followed me. I turned to look at her because I thought it was cute that she wanted to be part of this little ritual. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the inside of the door. And I saw my dad. His face. His eyes. His hairline. His smile. Him.
Today, that cloud pounded me with buckets full of rain.
It's been nine years now. Nine years since we lost him. Nine years since our lives, our foundation, were rocked. Sometimes it seems like 90 years. Sometimes it seems like yesterday.
|I miss him helping me, and aggravating me while doing it|
I know if you read this blog regularly you expect me to find the hidden meaning. To end on a high note. To accentuate the positive. But I'm sorry. Not today. I just can't do it.
This day sucks. It reminds me of our worst nightmare. A nightmare from which we never awoke.
So I'm sorry if I'm incapable of being upbeat today. I'm sorry if my sarcasm doesn't come with a friendly smirk today. I'm sorry if I don't want to laugh at your joke today.
I just want it to be tomorrow. I'll still miss him. But at least it won't be today.