It seems to be a tradition with me to post something about Dad each May 18th, the anniversary of his passing. The reason I do this isn’t so much to solicit any sympathy from you, my readers, but just to clear the air of any thoughts I might have on this day as each year passes by. It’s a kind of therapy.
This year, however, is especially bittersweet because in a mere 55 days, I will have outlived my father (15,122 days, to be exact). And to be quite honest, it’s a little strange to think about.
At this point in my life I couldn’t even imagine going anywhere. I’ve got a fantastic wife, one heckuva kid and despite being unemployed, my life is going fairly well. There isn’t time for me to die right now; there’s still plenty to conquer.
But while I’m definitely thinking of my own mortality more frequently now that I’m over 40, the thought of dying at Dad’s age 54 days from now is absolutely unfathomable. It’s impossible for me to comprehend, just as Dad’s passing was for the 7-year-old boy I once was.