Well, it appears at least a few people are interested in reading what I have to say. That fact is both gratifying and intimidating, because now, I have to deliver. Originally, I thought this would be a blog by me, for me, which is kind of liberating...and slightly sad. Plus, my inner monologue really should remain trapped within the confines of my mind so I apologize in advance for some of the thoughts that may spew forth in unfiltered moments. I blame it on the caffeine.
What finally got this blog started was the passing of my father...they weren't his final words or anything...though that would have been an anticlimactic moment.
"Son..."
I lean forward, grasping my father's hand. "Yes, Dad?"
He looks me in the eye with knowing, wisdom. "Start that damn blog already."
"Love you, too, Dad."
(End scene)
No, I started the blog because I thought it would be a fitting venue for me to write and reflect on his impact on my life--the important memories, the valuable lessons--as a way to consider how he continues to be present even after his departure. It feels like a healthy part of the grieving process...for me at least.
Now, before any of you revolt because you thought this blog was going to be funny, uplifting, and entertaining, don't worry. I promise to intersperse plenty of entries about much lighter fare. I'm sure I will rant a bit about Coal, our hairless, allergic to the world pug. A month won't go by without a mention of my love for cheese. And speaking of love, you'll regularly hear of my misadventures in marriage with my patient, yet adoring wife Sara...who also thinks I'm hilarious...and charming...you can see it in the way she rolls her eyes.
Even my reflection will be sprinkled with attempted wit. My dad thought he was funny, and I share the same delusion.
Lucky for you, dear reader.
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