One year ago today my dad passed away and I can honestly say not a day goes by without me thinking about him. Sometimes it’s just a brief thought as my brain flickers to a memory, other times it’s a haunted reality that he truly is gone and he won’t be able to answer a question, see his grandsons, or argue with me about life. We talk about him often as my husband and kids process the loss in their own ways. They are still startled when they find me in tears over small things but are slowly starting to accept that grief comes in stages and sometimes when you least expect it.
In one of the last games of his regular hockey season my son Gabriel scored an overtime goal to send his team to the finals. It was such an exciting beautiful goal and the whole team, parents included, was overjoyed with our tough fought win. When Gabe came out of the dressing room I gave him a big hug and told him how proud of him I was. The first thing he said to me was that “Grandpa would have been proud of me, wouldn’t he?” And that made the moment so bittersweet. Sweet in that this wonderful boy of mine remembered his Grandpa at such an exciting time and sad because Dad couldn’t be there to share it with us.
There is much that could be written but I won’t. Today is a day for quiet contemplation, tears and happy memories. It’s been a hell of a year. And life goes on. Fortsätta.