It was one year ago yesterday that I spent my last pleasant afternoon visiting Dad, taking him out to lunch, and taking care of routine household matters for him. It was such a mundane Monday afternoon that I can only remember small fragments of it--I remember that Dad really liked the meat loaf that they had on the buffet at M&J's, so he went back for seconds. I remembered that Dad had me show him again how to play a videotape on the television in his bedroom, because he found some old tapes he wanted to watch again. I remember helping him make the bed, and his chuckle as he talked about how much he liked to sleep on clean sheets.
The next three weeks will be filled with much less happy anniversaries, and I'm already bothered by it. I think that, once I get past this first anniversary of Dad's stroke and hospitalization and death, it will be better.
I hope so.