1998

I had intended to write about something light and funny. Perhaps the joys of delivering Britton’s 112 boxes of girl scout cookies to 27 different addresses {where is my badge?}. Or, how I narrowly forgot to retrieve Raynes from the church nursery last Sunday {thankfully B reminded me before we reached the double doors leading to the parking lot}.
But, what I keep thinking of is how some events, often times one, can shape an entire year. 
For instance, when I hear 1995 I think… the year I graduated high school.
Or, 2001… the year we were married.
1977… the year I was born.
2004… well, that’s doesn’t jar anything earth shattering.
2008… can’t recall anything in particular that year, although I’m sure it was just swell.
2006.. the year Kenley was born.
Now, you throw 1998 my way, and only one thing comes to mind… my Dad.
Exactly 14 years ago, and one day to be exact, my Dad passed away. Mom tells me that I shouldn’t focus on the day he died, but rather on his birth day. That makes sense. And I don’t go around thinking about March 12th all the time. But, when March is on the horizon, and the azelas begin to blossom, unconsciously, I  calcuate how long it will have been this year, since that year, 1998. Of all the 364 other days that year, many of which were good, they all get compiled into one, sad day that is generalized with a big, black Sharpie pen.

So, I am at a loss how to spin that into a feel-good fuzzy kind of post. Other than to say that I did the math, again this year. And it has been 14 years, if you are counting, since 1998.

But, what I can do to brighten the mood ’round here, is a little car wash action….

Robinson style.

Because we all know that pollen is a pest.

And that some little girls like having a “blast” with the water hose and their Daddy.

Kenley, the Bandaid queen.

 
We miss you, Dad.
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Lovely comments

  1. 1

    noreply@blogger.com' says

    Love every one of your posts, Garrett, but this one is simply. just. beautiful. Though we hardly even acknowledge the date, February 7 is the day I always count and marvel at how much life has changed {and how it still seems like yesterday} since Marsha died… and I lost a mother-in-law, not my actual parent, so I can’t imagine your thoughts and feelings. And like your mom suggests, we mark July 7 each year instead – and celebrate Marsha’s birthday as a time to smile and remember her. Thanks for often putting difficult thoughts into perfect words. Boy this is a long comment! Hope to run into with your cute kiddos in a random spot like Hobby Lobby again soon :).