I caught my reflection driving down the road and thought to myself, “talk about history repeating itself.” It brought tears to my eyes, because it’s been 11 years since we lost my dad to cancer. I still miss him like it was yesterday. The guy who drove around town in this same red truck, who we teased mercilessly because his left arm was more tann than his right. A truck arm if you will. Not a day goes by when I dont want to call him to complain about a workplace event, or get his advice, or wish he were here to wrestle with my kids. I wish he could have met my husband. I think they would have liked each other, because they’re an awful lot alike. We both moved back to Anderson, IN after doing our growing up in far away places. It makes me feel okay with my choices when I doubt them the most, because I loved growing up here so I think my girls will too.
The anniversary of his death always falls right around mother’s day, sometimes on it. Thanks for that Dad, you always did have a flair for the dramatic. While on this day I remember my dad- I want to honor my mom. Strange bedfellows, grief and honor. Dead and living. Always so hand in hand. My mom is like me, or I guess I’m like my mom really. We want to be free to be ourselves. I am always amazed by her, even though we do clash and I make fun of her at times. She’s who I want to be when I grow up. The one who has the courage to stick it out for richer or poorer, through sickness & in health. I give her a hard time, but secretly want to be her. Happy Mother’s Day & hugs on the day you sent Dad home to tell his best stories to a very good listener.