Dad

My dad would've been 70 years old yesterday, but instead cancer took him away at the tender age of 56. 14 years ago, and it feels like yesterday. I look at my the title of my blog, Health and Happiness, and wish that he could have read what I've written. In a lot of ways, I write not just for him, but for my kids and eventually my grand-kids as well.

My dad was the perfect combination of intelligence and silliness, a dichotomy of a person. Smart and serious in one second, goofy and silly in another. Giving and caring in one second, faulted and pained in another. He was an amazing man, and I miss him dearly. I see him when I look up at the sunshine, I feel him warming me, comforting me when I'm not doing too well. And most of all, I remember him, his smile, his laugh, and his joy.

Letting go, reliving the hard times, getting over the pain, moving on ... it's all a process, I guess. I cry a lot, even still. It takes just a thought, or a song, or a moment to bring me to tears, to fill my soul with sadness. Grief is tough to deal with, even for the strongest of us. Our memories catapult us in time, so we're walking side-by-side, we're small again, we're carefree and joyous. And then, we go back to the hard times, to the hospital beds, and doctors. To the pain of letting go.

I guess I'll never really get over it, as much as I think I do, as much as I like to think so. It's been 14 years, and it feels like yesterday. 14 years is a day to my mind. But, at the same time, I know what he's telling me, even as I write this. "It's okay, don't worry, it will be okay." And I'm comforted by that. Life is complex, isn't it? Sometimes, to find your true happiness, you have to find your true sadness first, and deal with it. I guess I'm dealing with mine now.