Today he would have been 73...

I probably won't write something every birthday that rolls around.  But it's the first one.  It seems significant.  At this point last year we had no idea that Papa was sick.  He was in a little pain but we chalked it up to his recent back surgery that was taking longer to recover from than we thought it would.  Over this weekend last year we took the girls to a pumpkin patch north of our home a bit. My dad told   Its to go and have fun and that we would celebrate when we all got home.  I think he secretly wanted the house to himself for a couple of days because he knew that we would be spending the night up north, too.

This year I am missing him.  He used to want to ignore his birthday but I didn't.  I love birthdays.  I don't go all out but I like doing at least something.  This year we mark the day in our hearts, tears are shed, and we take another step forward.

Miss A and I went out to his grave last week to put some flowers. Fall, I think, was his favorite season.  Mostly because it then signified in his mind hunting season.  Because really, let's face it, that was his favorite season. HA!  Miss A helped me clear off his marker and while I cried she was quiet and as we left she just held my hand.  Then in her innocence she asked if she could pick some flowers.  I asked her where she wanted to pick flowers.  She pointed at all the other markers with flowers. It helped to lighten the mood.  Miss A and my dad had a special bond.  Little things that she still remembers that he would do for her at the breakfast table.  When my dad was in hospice she would climb up on his bed and cuddle with him.