so, Dad, its been nine years

Nine years ago today my father died. It was surreal and out of the blue. Most people don’t realize that I tend to recognize today. The recognition of this day has become more subtle over the years, but it is still there.

Today I didn’t really know what to do. I just didn’t want to do much, still trying to slow down in life and catch my breath. My what a whirlwind year it has been. I thought about calling my brother today, but I didn’t. I simply didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t call. (actually while writing this I did call, he had no idea what today was.) Nor did I call my dad’s family in South Carolina. I don’t think any of us will ever get over losing dad, or the sock of the suddenness. Still there is the question of what to say. I am hesitant to reach out in a way that may cause pain to my family; they may not even realize today, what good would it do to point it out.

At first, the anniversary of dad’s death was very painful for me—the first year was the worst. In the years just after daddy died I used to throw a dinner party on this day and simply spend time with those I love eating good food, usually one of dad’s favorites. As I look back on this practice, I think it was a way of celebrating life while bring my whole support system together in one local. I don’t think I ever told my friends why I was doing a dinner on that night, I just did it. Some of my closer friends may have figured out why, but since none of my friends in California knew my dad, it most likely slipped their minds. Really, it was a silent acknowledgement so deep and profound it really just had to do with me, and really that was truly the point.

How I acknowledge this day has had to change over the years based on what is going on in my life. I think it is different every year. This year was quiet. I had the house to myself most of the day, so I relaxed. I did some research on the types of vegetables that we can plant in a garden this time of year. While the beds and soil are not ready for me to get my hands dirty quite yet, I did what I could to nourish life.

As I thought about the vegetables we are planning to nourish so that they may nourish us, I remembered a dream I had last week. In my dream I had a talk with my father. After dad died I dreamed of him almost every night for two years and often we talked then, but it had been along time since I felt that experience. It was a nice dream last week to find myself sitting down and talking with my father over a campfire; to know that he knows how my life has changed, how I’ve grown and that he approves. I still cannot figure out why, in this dream, my mother came and joined our conversation, as that never happened before. I did spend some time today thinking of dad, thinking of talking to him, knowing he is here, knowing he loves me and is watching over me.

This evening I made a small meal for the my husband, Suz our roommate, and I. It was not a celebration of my dad’s passing or even his life per se. But it was a celebration of home, friends, family and the all blessings of our lives; a life that is fleeting, perfect, and precious.