That’s how long it has been since my Dad died of melanoma.
I think of him every day, I have conversations with him every day in my head and I talk about him to someone else every day. I can still smell him every time I hop in his old truck to drive anywhere. I love that.
Most of the time I think I’m doing pretty well. Until something sneaks up on me that I wasn’t expecting and then I feel like I’ve been flattened all over again.
Tonight we started watching My Sister’s Keeper and I could feel the sorrow creeping over me like a shadow. The girl with cancer began chemotherapy and I lost the plot. It was all so familiar. I think Dave just about gave himself a hernia in his scramble to find the remote and change the channel.
To make a bad night even worse, our normally quiet neighborhood has been transformed into party central, overrun by obnoxious 18 year olds; shrieking, banshee-like females and their male counter parts who do not speak only yell and race the POS cars. I do not drink enough to sleep through this shit.
Follow
