Today marks the fourth anniversary since my dad took his last breath on earth. As the day grew nearer, part of me dreaded that April 9 was approaching. I really hate being an orphan, even at my age, but I made the decision to be as positive as I could. I reflected on the 47 years that I did have him. I remembered how miserable he was in his final months of suffering and how now he is free of that.
After the alarm rang this morning, I plodded to the bathroom and stared at the date. Then I went back to bed and read the newspaper, an activity my dad was certain to do each day of his adult life. I studied one of his favorite books, the Bible, all morning. I exercised in his honor this afternoon. I called his only other child, my older sister.
Instead of only looking back on what would please my dad, I also looked forward to what I want my life to look like in the future. My dad had very strong opinions that I often let hinder me from being my authentic self around him. I took the annual online test for my favorite game show, Jeopardy, this evening. I’m seeking to blog more often, allowing the “real me” to be put out there for the world to see. I’m already in my pajamas, even though it’s only 6:15pm. I get to spend the evening with my hubby, who I had to tell my father on many occasions had “gracefully dethroned” my dad as the most important male figure in my life.
As we get older, it becomes inevitable that we will lose loved ones and have painful memories. We have a choice to dwell on the loss or be thankful for the time we had them and look forward to the future with hope.
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