One Year

My father died one year ago today. I was with him when he died at 3 a.m. The middle of the night and the beginning of spring are resonant with my memories of him--and likely always will be.

I know I was lucky to have such a loving, funny Dad. He cared about me, was invested in my life. He loved Annie "like a daughter" as he said several times. He was one of those rare men who, when he screwed up, would apologize. He lived big. He loved life and didn't want to leave it.

I began writing this blog last year in response, in great part, to the loss of my dad, as you can see in the first entry.

I will honor him today by breathing, by loving the blue sky and sun, by touching the shells I picked up at the beach yesterday (he taught me to love the ocean)--and by being kind to those around me, making sure to apologize when I screw up.