A Day Early

It would appear the sadness fairies have arrived ahead of schedule. (Not all fairies bring sunshine and money in exchange for things that fall out of your mouth as you get older). For those who may not know, tomorrow is my Dad's 61st birthday. We'll be celebrating by crying next to his tomb in a mausoleum outside of Pittsburgh, PA.

This week has been a challenge, to say the least.

Perhaps what I've been struggling with most is extrapolating, and trying to accept, that every new great thing that happens in my life won't be witnessed by my Dad. I won't get to share the view, the joy, the happiness, the satisfaction, of anything ever, with him again.

Where it really seems to be sticking is with my recent, albeit moderate, success. I have a full-time job that pays me fairly. I have benefits. I have a girlfriend. I have a really nice apartment. I live in a beautiful part of the country. The shores of Lake Champlain are a mere quarter-mile from where I live. I can look out from that shore and see the Adirondacks. I put in a lot of time and work to get to this point. Through all of the ups and downs, successes and failures, my Dad supported me. He made sacrifices in time, money, and most likely his own success, to do everything he could to get me to this point. And I can't share any of it with him. I have no way to prove to him that it wasn't a waste. This will stick with me for a long time, probably the rest of my life.