13 years

Life has been overly emotional lately.  Between the talks with the multitude of girls, the talks with abused homeless, the talks with frustrated occupiers, sitting in a man-cave watching 50 hours of Netflix in 3 days, and the lack of talking with my mentee but having to watch this with him…I have an emotional debt.

Sleeping hasn’t been easy.  Resting is hard to describe. Dreaming has been insane when it happens but rare. And mornings are just…impossible to start!

Then, I am crossing the Hawthorne Bridge on the bus this morning when it hits me. 13 years.  It has been 13 years and 4 days since I heard his voice.  Since I had someone to call father… and mean it.  Since I knew what death felt like when it hit the inner most circle of one’s life.

Each year it seems to be a little harder… and easier at the same time.  People close to me know this is the day I reassess my life. My birthday, salvation day, and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one.  I feel like I would get a “Most Improved Award” again this year.  Addictions are in check.  Intimacy is slowly allowed to happen. Work is continuing. Leadership is part of my life.  A life that is settling.

The hardest part of this, of course, is that the more my hair flees my scalp and my weight shows on my neck, the more the mirror reminds me of him.  The less I can wear yellow shirts or red coats or a mustache without a beard.  The less I can laugh contagiously without thinking of him.  The less I can avoid getting into a story that is interrupted and diverted 14 times because I was close to that one point that I have now forgotten.

Another year has passed.  Another period of time where I felt alone, yet connected to something unseen.  Another day has come to remember the man that taught me how to laugh at the ludicrioty* of life, tell a story that entertains for 20 minutes, failure is part of succeeding and that people matter more than money EVER will.  Especially children- which is probably the biggest lesson this year.

Thanks Dad. I really miss you.

*This might be the best word I ever invented.

3 Comments

Filed under Adulthood, Death, Grieving

3 Responses to 13 years

  1. Just read 13 years–not once but three times…It really hit home…I lost my Dad also and I miss him very much. I wish he could be here to see all the new things I am up to. Your blog was a comfort to me and I thank you for it.

  2. Pingback: 14 years | Jeremiah's Words

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