It is 9:12pm and I guess I am supposed to succumb to the fact that today is the anniversary of my father's death. Two years. And you only ever hear of flying time when fun is being had.
I've been thinking about it the last couple days and my feelings are this: I will not be plagued by one doom and gloom day for the rest of my life. I am not going to stand still, in silence and tears every July 5th. There were a lot of days without my father before he was dead and now that is permanent. I cannot change that. Do I wish I could? Sure, but I cannot. I simply will not be forced to mourn on days deemed "special" by all those who do it. I survived his birthday and I survived his death day. I choose not to cry. He is dead everyday, not just this one. It reminds me of the stupidity of mother's day, father's day, valentine's day, etc. We should show our love and respect everyday, not just the days deemed "in honor of." I will miss him just as much tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. It is almost insane to me that I am supposed to miss him more on the day he died. Is is supposed to serve as some sort of reminder? Is there any question as to whether I forgot he died and needed one? I just don't get it. Isn't there enough everyday shit to worry about without having to put everything on hold in order to grieve yet again.
Today, I had a lovely day with my family and am having a fantastic night alone, writing, and preparing for the week. I am sorry if not crying or caring offends you. Actually, I'm not.
And as it turns out, that anger stage of grief might outlast the others.