Seven Years

Yesterday marked the seven year anniversary of my father's death. I never know what to do when this day rolls around. Obviously I'm sad. What I mean is that I don't know how to act? Do I stay at home and not go to work? Go to church? I doubt my Dad would want that. After all, he demanded that I stay at college - 4 hours away from home - even while he spend months in the hospital battling cancer. He never wanted us kids to disrupt our plans on his account.

I do regret not putting college on hold and returning home. What I regret more is that my Dad was only alive long enough to witness me being a punk-ass teenager. I wish - at the very least - he had the chance to enjoy all the effort and love he put into raising me. Then he would have been able to hang out with his son as a man rather than an ambivalent and angst-y teen.

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