This has been a tough week. Work’s been demanding the last couple of weeks, but that’s nothing new. However, this is the week the holds both the anniversary of Dad’s death, and just three days later, his birthday.
Today, he would’ve been 65.
This morning, we had a low fog bank, with all kinds of color in the sky as the sun came up, transitioning from the early reds in the clouds of fog to bright yellows as the sun climbed. It was very reminiscent of a morning on the mountain, and very fitting for Dad’s birthday.
Dad showed me a lot of things when he was here. I think the thing that I’ve tried to reflect the most, especially of late, is his love of life, and his willingness to let the bad stuff just dissipate. From my view, he was a master of both, enjoying as much life as he wanted, and letting as much of the bad slide away as he could. I think that’s a good recipe for life, and I’m trying hard to make that happen for me.
I’ve found myself reflecting on Dad’s sense of humor lately. I think that’s probably one of the things he was best known for. He could disarm an angry customer, and I don’t think he ever met a stranger. That’s something I always admired, and something I’m starting to see in myself. That’s another good lesson Dad taught me, I suppose.
Happy birthday, Dad.