So here we are again.
The third anniversary. We've not done anything this year, The Brat is working late and couldnt change his shifts. Its different this year. Perhaps I'm finally coming to terms with it.
I still think of him virtually every day, although its not every day like it used to be, and although it still eats me up inside and twists my stomach with pain I've not yet cried. Maybe I will, maybe I won't this year.
He'd have preferred that, that this year I acted normally, laughing and joking with work friends, that I havent sat around and moped.
I miss him terribly still and wish that he was here with us. Friday might be hard as it will be his 50th birthday, if things were normal we'd have had a massive party.
Instead there will be just us and a quiet dinner, we might go ski-ing at the Dome, I think his sense of humour would appreciate that. Being silly and doing silly things was high on his list of agendas, although He would have watched us make fools of ourselves and toasted us with alcohol.
I wonder how my Mother is coping, deep down. She makes brave statements about moving on with life, but I wonder deep down, if she really is.
I miss my Daddy, we all do.