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It's Father's Day which means, naturally, my thoughts as I sit here this morning turn to him. My dad. If you don't know, my dad passed away almost eleven years ago. But I'm not sad today. I know there are people who have trouble with today, trouble handling that emptiness. And it's not that I don't miss my dad or didn't love him. We didn't have a bad relationship. I guess for me it doesn't take one certain day to feel the loss. I don't sequester myself away on Father's Day or the anniversary of his death or his birthday. (Of course, since my Dad's birthday was Christmas day, it would be a little hard to do that.) When I miss him most usually is on some random day. I'll look at his picture on my wall or I'll see something on TV or read something that triggers the pain. Sometimes it will come out of nowhere. Actually, early October is hardest for me. He died October 29th (well, that's when they "called it" after midnight, but I guess he technically was gone very late on the 28th). I still vividly remember the day we spread his ashes. It was one of those rare late autumn days that feel more like late September: not too warm, not too cold, leaves everywhere. Was the sun shining? I don't remember clearly. Maybe because years when we've gone back to visit the spot it has been and they all meld together in my memory. But those early October days, when there's a bite in the air but the sun still keeps you warm, the faint smell of wood smoke is in the air, the fall colors are in full force.... those are the days I miss him most.

I never mind talking about my dad. I love sharing stories and memories. I was lucky enough to have him for 27 years. That's more than some people get. When I grieve, it's for me and my family and all the milestones he's not physically here for. I believe in some sort of afterlife so I think he's still with us on those days. Later today my family is getting together for my niece's birthday and I know he'll be there with us. But that doesn't stop me from occasionally asking him "Dad, what do you think? If you were here, what would you say?" Today is the day when many of my friends on Facebook will post pictures of their wedding day and their dad walking them down the aisle or sharing the Father/Daughter dance or just standing proudly by in a tux. I'll never have that. That being said, me and my sisters would often wonder if our father would show up at our weddings in his good jeans and flannel because we just couldn't picture him in a suit or tux.

Today I will be happy. Every time a sarcastic or inappropriate comment is said by one of my sisters or myself I'll think of him. When my youngest sister smiles I'll see his smile. When I watch my brother-in-law interact with one of his kids I'll think of how hands-on my dad was. When I see my blue eyes in the mirror I'll think of his blue eyes. When I sit a little away from everyone because my introvertedness keeps me away from the overload of so many people, I'll think of my dad's quiet presence as he would do the same thing. And if I catch a whiff of wet dog (because only my dad would choose to have that scent associated with him. It's a story. Ask me and I'll tell you.) I'll know it's him.

Happy Father's Day Dad.

Me and my dad, February 1980