My nephew Jack graduated from Kindergarten today. I can't imagine him graduating from anywhere - not because he isn't brilliant, but because I can't believe how the years seem to blend into one another and travel at light speed. When Jack came into the world, life was so different. It seems like a century ago and his wisdom continues to impress me and leave me in a state of awe. When I called this morning to wish him well, I told him that I will be visiting my mom on Sunday and hoped to see him too. He responded, "Aunt Chrissi, Sunday is Father's Day, but you don't have to worry about it anymore, because your Dad died already."
It hadn't even occurred to me until last week as I pondered my options for how to celebrate Father's Day, that the last time I saw my Dad was on Father's Day 2007. He died the following September. Ironically ... or something, I spent last year with a dear friend and her family who I was very close to. Unfortunately, it was the last time I would spend a holiday with her Dad too, so I struggle to not adopt a superstition about Father's Day. So as I fought to maintain my composure and suppress the fit of hysterical laughter that racked my body, I told young Jack that he was right. For me, Father's Day is a day to remember him with love. Quite simply, my wise little man agreed.
This Sunday, I will remember:
Morning coffee rituals
Being called by the wrong name and happily responding
Half eaten Oreo Cookies on Christmas morning
The Clancy Brothers and James Taylor's Greatest Hits on Sundays
St. Patrick's Day
The rules of life: never get married, never buy a house, never buy a car, never have kids, never get a dog
And most importantly, being the apple of someones eye.