April 6

Nineteen years ago today I met the Kid's father. It seemed like a star-struck night, the beginning of something wonderful, and it was, for a while. A short while, as it turned out, but the Kid came of that relationship, and I can't imagine my life over the last 17 years without him, so I can't be sorry it happened.

Seven years ago today my dad died. He died after a valiant struggle with lung cancer. I wrote about my dad here a couple of years ago. We all still miss him.

For some reason I thought about the juxtaposition of those two events today. They're not related; it's by mere happenstance that they share the same date. Yet they both mark my life in indelible ways. It's funny, too--when I met the Kid's father, his best characteristics, and some of his manners of speech (calling people "sugar," for example) reminded me of my dad. I took that as a good sign, but as it turned out, the only things he really had in common with my dad were things that were not their finer qualities (including a fondness for bourbon and cigarettes.)

Memory is such a funny thing. It's painful at times, yet would I want to be without it?

Today I'll be thinking of Daddy, and wondering about things that might have been.