Dollar short

For the past month or so, as the anniversary of my father’s death approached, I’ve been thinking of him, not specifically about commemorating the anniversary, but things like how last year was the the tipping point, I’ve now been on the earth longer as his orphan than he was with me, how similar we were and how much we fought. I’ve been thinking about how young he was (49) even though he seemed so old to 19-year old me (as a geriatric mom that one weighs on my mind a lot).

I’ve been honoring him, recalling his voice, bringing his face to mind, and yes, shedding more than a few tears. I don’t spend a lot of time mourning the fact that he didn’t walk me down the aisle or that V will never know her grandfather, his not being here has been a reality far too long for that. But I do miss him and wonder what he would think of my life now. The year he died was a big year for me – I also quit drinking and school, moved out of the house and met my husband. The following April I started at the place where I still work. It’s like there’s a whole other me he never got to meet, the non-punkass version of me.

Earlier tonight I had a ‘holy crap’ moment when I realized it’s December 15th. Which means December is officially out of control and I’m an idiot. Because the anniversary of my father’s death is December 14th. I didn’t have any plans for commemoration, I didn’t have a memorial post written, I wasn’t planning on lighting a candle and I know I spent a good deal of time thinking about him, but I didn’t realize it was *the* date.

And then I had to laugh because I knew that my perpetual disorganization and tendencies to tardiness would drive him insane. Maybe I haven’t come that far from punkass after all.