Today could have been a very terrible day. January 23. My dad's birthday. I realized about three days ago that his birthday was approaching. It is difficult to think about someone's birthday. My dad died at 55. He never reached 56. He never will. Am I the only one that thinks this is a crazy concept?
I don't get it. Not sure if I ever will.
But anyways, I woke up this morning with a feeling in my gut. Thanks to my lovely sisters, though, the day was not lost. I could have spent all day being a hermit in my bedroom, but instead I enjoyed watching the Blackhawks' and Bears' games on TV.
We yelled. We ranted. We shouted OBSCENITIES. We made fun of each other. We had a blast.
I just want to say thank you to those who made me forget what today really was. I'm not saying I forgot about my dad, but I celebrated instead. He would have wanted it that way.
So Happy Birthday, Daddy!
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