I’m moving into a difficult period. Today would have been my Dad’s 87th birthday.
This time last year he had just been brought home from the hospital to spend his days at home. His birthday was on a Tuesday last year.
Dad will be gone a year on October 20th, ten days from now. Nora, my Mom, and I are heading up to West Virginia on Friday night and will not return to Baltimore until Oct 21st. That way my Mom doesn’t have to be home alone during the first year anniversary.
I think it’s starting to get to me a little. Dad died at 2:15 AM on Friday, October 20th. For the first several months I awoke exactly at 2:15 AM every Friday. Eventually, it became know and then. Many times it happened on the 20th of the month. Other nights, I would also awake at 2:15 AM. It’s funny, but it’s a certain feeling I get when I awake at that time. I know it’s 2:15 AM. I can feel it, without even checking my watch.
This morning, on my father’s birthday, I awoke at 2:15 AM. I shot straight up out of a sound sleep.
Actually, it really wasn’t a bad feeling this morning. It was like my father was there, sending me a sign that everything was OK.
As always when that happens, I never really get back to a sound sleep. I’ll doze off, but won’t really fall asleep.