A Tribute…A Day Late

I was so out of it yesterday, due to being super active for a few days. I ended up sleeping most of my day away. When my boyfriend came over to see me for a short while (he brought me food) I kept nodding off right in the middle of our conversation.

Yesterday marked the 34th anniversary of my father’s death at the age of 50 from a heart attack. He passed the day after my 12th birthday. I’m starting to creep up closer to the age that he was when he died.

I know that he wouldn’t want me to be so sad and truthfully, it has gotten easier over the years to deal with.

Yet, I still usually feel the need to acknowledge him every year because if I don’t, who will? My brother doesn’t discuss it at all and now that my mom is gone (reunited with my dad, which brings me some comfort) I’m the last one here to keep his memory alive.

I’m the sensitive one, the one who can’t let the past go.

Perhaps that’s true…and I’m fine with it.

Last Saturday, my boyfriend and I took a trip to the cemetery. The headstone was filthy with dirt, so he went to grab a bottle of car water (that’s something for another post) and a few napkins that I keep in my glove compartment. I got down on my knees and cleaned it the best that I could.


Then he helped me up…or else I’d probably still be there!

It doesn’t matter how many years go by, you still grieve their loss. It softens a little with the passage of time and you learn to just live with the pain but it never goes away. I always feel a little better after a visit. Sometimes I weep, other times I just get misty-eyed.


This is one of my favorite pictures of us together. I was such a daddy’s girl. I loved him more than anyone else in the entire world back then. I really wish that I could’ve gotten to know him an as adult, the way I was able to do with my mom.

I miss and love you, dad. I’m glad that you and mom are together again.


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