Today would’ve been Dad’s 64th birthday, observed the same week as the anniversary of his death.
Much like last year, anticipation of this week was dreadful, as I knew my thoughts wouldn’t be on the here and now, but rather, focused on reflecting. There are times when the finality of his passing sucker punches me when I least expect it, and this week has been full of those times. Last night, I fell asleep in Becky’s embrace, her soothing away the pain of the moment that had surfaced unsurprisingly.
Here’s to you, Dad — happy birthday. I know you’re smiling down on all of us, and I hope you’re proud of where I’m trying to go, and where I’m trying to lead my family.