He Would Have Been 96 Today

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Well... its Autumn. Or it will be at about 3am tomorrow morning. Every year I'm reminded that today, this day, means something.

The old man would have been 96 today - I've been telling his story in bits and pieces for years, of course. Still more stories to tell. But each year farther from his passing feels... not better, but maybe lighter? That hole is never going to get filled, but the life surrounding the hole becomes richer and bigger.

He was never an advice giver, never barely even wanted to talk about himself, but he worked hard and had dreams. I knew where he stood and that was a comfort. He loved my mom from the moment he stepped into the bowling alley and saw her for the first time, so we have that in common. Not the bowling part, but the love part.

Little Bean was 900 days old when he passed. He called her Cutie. Near the end, he wasn't sure who she was, but he still held her hand. She danced with my nephews at his wake.

I mention all this annually because September 22 was also my first date with Meena - we rode a trolley and ate spaghetti after. She asked me if I’d eat the spaghetti with my hands because she wanted to see if I would do it. I'd have done anything of course.

This day is also important to moments with Little Bean and Tough Cookie - hikes and adventure. Facebook reminds me that the day has depth.

Every year on this day, I make the mistake of expectation - what incredible thing will happen to me today, what landmark, what memory? But you can't manifest awe, that's just not how the universe works.

Still... this morning, my daughter ate hash browns and we talked about music and singing. My wife kissed me on my cheek. The house's creatures sulked about looking for a treat. The sun shone. The coffee was bitter and hot.

A day like any other, a miracle in and of itself. My father's shadow, always. The revelation of simplicity on Autumn Equinox. I'll take it.