Saturday, January 24, 2015


It's January.  Always in the winter I feel a little more blue than usual.  I actually self-diagnosed myself with seasonal affective disorder, appropriately labeled SAD.  I mean what do you expect?  It's cold.  It snows.  It's gray.  IT'S COLD.  What's there to like?  But I also feel down around this time due to the memories.  It was in November nearly 20 years ago that my mom was diagnosed with MS.  And it was that January when my dad was first diagnosed with Cancer.  My dad ended up passing away a few years later in February.  So yeah, I have some memories.

My mom and I had the pleasure of catching up with a friend from high school and her mom a few weeks ago.  I was a little apprehensive at first.  Not because there was any bad blood, but because it had been so long.  I was no longer that girl I used to be. But it turned out to be an amazing experience.  One that I was sad hadn't happened sooner.  It was nice to be able to share memories with people that I grew up with.  It is so interesting thinking of the person who you went to girl scout camp with now being a beautiful young woman with husband and a baby.

It was during our lunch together I was reminded of a few memories of my dad.  The one that I rarely think about is the day he died.  Before he died he had been admitted to the hospital.  His condition worsened relatively quickly.  I was in high school at the time.  By that time my mom had stopped driving.  I would take my mom to the hospital before I went to school and pick her up after.  On that day we had a call very early telling her to come in.  I didn't really think that it was odd at the time.  I went to my first class.  And then when I approached my second class I could see my guidance counselor waiting for me.  I knew what was about to happen.  I knew the news she was about to share.  I tried to prepare.  I tried to tell myself not to cry.  But I did and loud.  I cried very loudly through the length of the school.  I was so loud in fact that some people thought I was laughing.

That was all nearly 17 years ago.  The memories of my life then are fading.  The images of my dad are becoming blurry.  But missing him never changes.  I long to have his level-headed advice.  I wish he could have walked me across the stage.  I can only imagine crying to him about a break up.  Or having him walk me down the aisle when (if ever) I get married.  I wish that he could be here so we both could take care of mom.  Even though I get sad about what I will not get to experience with my dad  I will always have the memories.  And even sad memories are better then no memories.  So as my dad's death anniversary approaches I will keep thinking about him.  And I will keep hoping that I have turned out to be the type of daughter to properly honor his memory.

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