metrocake

We spent Easter with R’s family, and it was good. It was also R’s dad’s birthday recently, so it was more of a double-celebration thing. :)

Sometimes, though…

It’s been almost seven years since my Dad died, and I think I’ve come a long way in accepting things. Accepting that he’s gone, and all of the implications of that: no more birthdays, will never see how my life turned out, nor my family’s, nor (maybe) my future kids, etc. Dad’s story ended seven years ago. He doesn’t get a speaking role in the movie anymore. I’ve tried to accept that, and for the most part, I’ve succeeded.

Having said that, sometimes his absence just trips me up, chokes me, and makes me so damned sad. Easter dinner…I mean, our Easter dinners could sometimes be great, sometimes be nightmares, but they were our nightmares, you know? My parents, my grandparents, nieces, nephews, other family…everyone who used to get together…my Dad is gone, my grandparents are gone, one sister’s out in Los Angeles and she’s not likely to be home anytime soon. It’s not the way it used to be, and it won’t ever be that way again. The stories we told, gone. The jokes, gone. That’s the first heartbreak…the second, of course, is that R won’t have seen any of it, won’t know. Can’t know.

So I cried a little on the way home, on the train. I enjoy his family, but days like today can be bittersweet. And it hurts.