This year is a bit better than last year. It's the 2nd anniversary of my father's death. I still miss him every day, but I don't get teary much anymore. I still get very emotional when I watch something about someone dying of cancer. Even just dying is hard, even though I know we will all do it some day, and I'm ok with that. Well, I'm not trying to rush it or anything, but I'm not deluding myself that I'm going to pluck harps and walk on streets of gold.
So in thinking about Dad, I think about all that has changed. Not much, really. I still get up every day and go to work. I still work in the garden, go to school, wish I was closer to my family but don't do anything about it, wished I exercised more and ate less, and don't do anything about that either. Should my life have changed? Should I have had some kind of epiphany and now only do good works, feed the hungry, make a difference- and be insufferably devout about something? Well, that hasn't happened yet. Maybe yext year.
So Dad, if you are out there in the ether somewhere- I miss you, and I wish you were still here to play cribbage with and talk with and annoy me with trying to save my soul. Your lilac tree is blooming in my backyard. Your old alligator is in my front yard, looking the worse for wear with his broken nose and missing tail, but I'll keep him until he disintegrates into concrete rubble. I still use your hammer. Your photo with the missing hair from chemo is over my desk, and you are smiling next to Matt. And I think of you when I hear Johnny Cash sing "Ring of Fire."
And especially when I hear "I'm so Lonesome I Could Cry."
And then I do.