I was at a wake today for my dad’s wife, Barbara. And although I am very sad that she’s gone, it was very difficult at times to look at photo albums and hear stories of their early life together.
These were years when my sisters and brother and I (then age 9 to 16) only saw him once a year — on Christmas Day.
I stood beside him at the wake and poured over shots of the two of them laughing and cavorting in Greece, in Spain, in Ireland (you get the picture). As he travelled down memory lane, so did I. And as much as I tried not to feel resentful about those lost years with him, I didn’t completely succeed, obviously.
But he’s very sad and alone right now without her and I’m older and a little wiser. So my good deed today was to forgive and, if not forget, then at least put the past behind us. I’ll try to treat each day like a new day. Life’s just too short to do otherwise, isn’t it?