It’s been one year since my Dad died.
I’m taking a half day so I can check out the other Y location and get some running in. It’s still World War Fat, so I don’t plan on drowning my sorrows with wine or eating a lot of comfort food.
When the heat wave dies down–if it ever dies down–I plan on taking a solo trip to our family cabin to do some writing. I’ve been there many times, including to spread his ashes, but I feel like it’ll do me some good to be alone. (And it’s always relaxing when you have a stretch of the Meramec River all to yourself.
I finished Life by Keith Richards last night. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. It’s worth mentioning here because my Dad’s favorite band was The Rolling Stones. Honestly, the whole time I read it, I kept wishing that he was still alive or that the book had come out earlier, so I could’ve read it to him. I feel like it would have made that last year a little less miserable.
It’s not fair, but it will never stop being unfair and I’ll never stop wishing that he was around. I’ll just have to get used to that, I guess. Here’s his favorite song:
Secretly Stephie 