As you all pretty much know now, my dad died when I was just 8 days past my 15th birthday. In a few short days, I hit the 3-0 milestone, making it half my life without my dad.
Half my life.
I can't quite put into writing what that means to me. It hurts, yes. It surprises me. It's not like everyday is spent thinking of my dad, in fact I'm ashamed to say there are days that pass without him crossing my mind at all.
Sometimes I still look for him in people and around me.
Last week, I was walking out of work to my car and as I walked around a corner the wind was blowing and the smell of a bakery consumed me. Immediately, I was in the bakery standing infront of the rack of freshly made donuts. I had on my white apron, my dad was at the fryer and the music was playing. A smile crossed my face and I said simply, "hey dad. sure do miss you around here." And as soon as it was there, the smell and the memories were gone.
I never had the opportunity to get to know my dad, only in the way an adolescent knows their parents. I look at my mom differently in my adulthood, I know her differently. I respect her difficult choices she made when we were young and I love her in a different way. I wish I could have a glimpse of who my dad really was.
I suppose this is just another milestone I must pass in my life and the next one will be my 44th birthday.
If you think of it on March 9th, stop a minute and say a prayer or think of me, my dad or my family. 15 years can feel like an awfully long time.
Miss you and love you pops, see you on the other side.