anniversaries

I've decided they suck. At least some do.

I really didn't think I would be affected as much as I am. I think I'm pretty resilient. Maybe I'm just kidding myself; I think I'm pretty good at that, too.

When my dad was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, obviously we were all shocked. I was probably in denial. I may still be. But one year ago today was the beginning of the end of a very long roller coaster ride. My dad had a stroke, just about this time on that day. By the time I left him and my mom and sister at the hospital late that day, we thought things were fine. Or as fine as they could be given that he had a stroke and was in the hospital. Cancer complicates everything. I suppose he might not have even had the stroke if his body wasn't compromised from the chemo. But he did. And when I left the hospital that night, I certainly didn't think it would be the last time I saw him. I talked to him on the phone the next day, and maybe the one after that. But the next time I got to see my dad, he was comatose. So while he was still my dad, he wasn't my dad, if that makes sense to you.

Today is just a day like any other. But I'm in this funk that will not let up. And I guess I now know why. It's the anniversary of the day my dad had a stroke. The anniversary of the last day I was able to see and talk with him. Somehow knowing that, affects me more than knowing the anniversary of his actual passing is rounding the corner.