More of the Same
I find myself thinking about Dad a bit more this time of year. Probably because he was diagnosed on October 5th, the day after my birthday. I was 29 then. A mother of one. The following October, less than four months after Dad's death, I gave birth to my second girl. And I gave her the middle name Strachan, after Dad.
Before he died, we talked. At some point, one of my sisters or Mom or I asked him what he wanted for the rest of his days. You see, he knew he was going to die. His answer to this question is something I think about lots.
"More of the same."
Is there anything better than this, than to love your life so much you wouldn't want to change a thing, even when time is running out? What a gift, this answer. And an inspiration.
I miss him, but I was lucky to have him for almost thirty years of my life. And to have the memories and words that remain and infuse my own days.
More of the same.