What a difference a day makes

I expected to feel unsettled today: to be pensive, perhaps even brooding. About six months ago, I took a full hour to do the calculations and I doubled checked my math and even counted days on several calendars. Yes, today was the day.

Now, things are going well. My little garden promises an abundance of potatoes, peppers, garlic, horseradish, kale, broccoli, zucchini, tomatoes, and cabbage. I had an excellent meeting yesterday with “my” students; shared dinners over the weekend with dear friends and am looking forward to some major events tied to my job. Recent renovations on the house turned out successfully and, in general, turning the page from spring to summer at the farm reminds me of how blessed I am.

Recent medical news is all positive and I’m looking forward to several gatherings with friends in the coming weeks and months.

So, why doesn’t today carry the weight of watershed? Why does it feel like a normal day? Why do I feel OK?

Since that other day in 1982, the Space Shuttle was launched and scrapped and computers are now more powerful in a phone than in an entire floor of a 1960’s building. Dictators were toppled, others bolstered; we rethought engineering and mapped the human genome. Presidents Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Bush, and Obama occupied the White House. Women or other minorities routinely lead corporations, government departments and the PGA tour; with it becoming less and less historic (as it should be). Phones no longer have curly wires.

Reality television has replaced the hard work of talented screen writers (not everything is progress) and books are a digital rather than tactile experience.

My brother married; one of his children is married. I graduated from college, held fascinating jobs, owned three homes in two states and a cottage on Drummond Island. I got to share my life with a certain Black Dog from his 7th week to his demise at 14 years. I’ve made some amazing mistakes, been forgiven often, have learned how to forgive. I have great friends.

Today, I matched the length of my father’s life. Tomorrow: I’ll be a day older than he ever could. I balance my memory of him as “old” and “stable” with my current attitude of hopefulness, acknowledged naiveté, and curiosity/concern about the future. Did he feel the same way on his life’s last day?

Dad has been gone too long to miss him on a daily basis and – in some ways – I feel a bit of guilt over that. But, maybe I shouldn’t. He was proud of my brother and me and he loved mom. I think he probably lived long enough to be happy.

Dad, I’ll try to do the same.





To learn a bit more about him, click Here