Saturday, October 26, 2019

Samaritan Inc Food Pantry

The homework assignment video that kept me up for 24 hours is finally done. For all that time spent, it should look better, but I'm no professional. Yet. 😉
It was fun making, though.

Wednesday, October 16, 2019

Dating is Weird

So, that's a decent selfie. Maybe it should be my new profile pic on the dating websites I belong to. You know, the websites where I hide my profile and it's not even visible, anyway. Aye yi yi.

I’ve been perusing these dating sites lately. Two, specifically. There are subtle (and not so subtle) differences in the two sites. But I’ve found that the candidates reflect the platform.

I've also learned via these sites, that I have a weirdness magnet. If they're weird, they'll find me. Or I'll find them- Ooooh he seems smart and artistic! Oh, wait. Nope, just weird. Yikes.
As it turns out, I am also a habitual dater of pharmaceutical salesmen, to my detriment. What is it about those guys that make them so charming, but such jerks?

I’ve always tried to convince myself that I don’t have a “type.” That although I may not know what I’m looking for, I do know what I don’t want. Right? I don’t have a type.

After being a member on both of these dating sites for the past couple of months, deleting dozens of messages (without even opening them), opening only three, and responding only to one (which I eventually regretted 8 or so messages into it), I realized I was lying to myself; I do have a type.

I’ve never been a fan of simple men. I’ve dated plenty, even married one. But they’ve never held my attention for long, if they even received it in the first place. Unfortunately the ones that followed were the exact opposite.
Too simple, too complicated. Why can't I find a happy medium???

I've realized that I am definitely attracted to a particular set of characteristics...
intelligent, creative, professional, emotional, intellectual, artistic, masculine, charismatic...
Did I say intelligent? 😁

I just want a guy who can meet a few of these needs... He must be brainy. Innovative. Creative. Intellectual. Artistic. But he needs to be able to fix stuff. A guy who writes (crossword puzzles don't count). And reads (Maxim doesn't count). A guy with a high level of communication aptitude. A guy who looks smokin' hot in a suit (and actually owns a few), but is happy lounging in pjs on lazy days off, or getting dirty working on household chores (or, as above, fixing stuff). One who is is tender, who wears his heart on his sleeve, who is far more than just emotionally available, but who is half tough-guy as well. A guy who is independent, but can't live without me (or at very least, doesn't want to). A guy who is active, motivated, because gawd knows, I could sometimes use the push. But not a gym rat or health nut, as I am definitely no pinnacle of health (what is it they say... if you see me running, it's only because I'm being chased by zombies). He also needs to be able to relax. We don't need to be doing something, every second, of every day. Jeezus, we're gonna be dead soon, slow down and enjoy. He should be funny, but not a full-time comic, as I appreciate seriousness and stoicism. He must be patient, veeeeery patient, as I am definitely not. He should be in acceptable/good physical condition, attractive, sexy. But humble and modest. Preferably several inches taller than me.
Did I say intelligent? 😁

It's not much to ask, right?

Hey, maybe I'll use this as fodder for my profile description, on the dating websites I belong to, where I hide my profile, and don't actually date. Aye yi yi.

Dating is weird.

It's been a long time. Sigh.

Wednesday, October 9, 2019

A Mother's Heart

Just yesterday she held him, a boy in her arms
Now turned to a man, still with boyish charms

She watched him grow tall, and need her much less
She knew he still loved her, though he might not express

She can't cradle him now as she did once before
But adores him as much, perhaps, even more

In her life she shares love with many more than just one
But her heart will always belong to her son

~ cgj

Wednesday, September 4, 2019

You Need to Calm Down Lyric Video

“Please Restrain Your Inner Childhood Bully”

I got started on this post at around 7am. The topic led my mind to a (relevant) song with a lyric video that I wanted to attach to this post. Which led me to making my own lyric video in PowerPoint, because I didn’t like the ones on YouTube. Which took all. Damn. Day.

But it’s done. Here it is. Read on...

Please Restrain Your Inner Childhood Bully...

I hated Sociology class. But it left me with one thing (unfortunately)... a hyper-awareness to others' hypocrisy and prejudice... And when I make my coffee and sign onto Facebook to peruse it like the morning newspaper, I'm bombarded with a news feed full of it.

So fah fahk sake, you guys...

Let people vent on Facebook (or wherever) if they want/need to. Do you know how ironically ridiculous you sound when you complain about them complaining? Have you ever considered that they might not feel like they have any friends who will listen? That they use it as their ONLY forum to feel better? That they might not be able to afford counseling, or anti-depressants, or any other treatment, and that it’s the only thing that keeps them from slitting their wrists or putting a 9mm in their mouth every day?
You feel good making fun of it now?

Let them wear whatever they want, without pointing and laughing. Out loud OR in your head! Pajamas to Walmart? Tight tanks tops and short shorts? Who f&%king cares?! You shouldn't; that's who.

Let them have their beliefs, or non-beliefs, it is THEIR life, after all. God? Sure, if that's your thing. Buddha? Sure, go for it. Pagan? Cool, dude. Atheist? Whatever you want, man.
See? It's that really that simple.

Let them have their political opinions; I'll point out, again, the irony of it, and how ridiculous you sound, when you complain about someone else being too sensitive.

Let them be fat, or skinny, or dirty, or whatever. How they appear or present themselves (purposefully or not) does not define them. And it certainly doesn't concern you.

Let them have their addictions, their guilty pleasures. Are they aligned with your hobbies, or behaviors, or how you live? Maybe not. Does it have anything to do with you? Once again- Nope.

Let them have their pumpkin spice, their blue hair, their video games, their tattoos and piercings, their karaoke, their goth makeup, or what EVER else it is that they might like/do, that, for whatever unearthly reason, doesn’t agree with your sensibilities.

Let them be gay, or bisexual, or transgender. Really, what effect does it personally have on you and your life? Right- NONE.

You know what? They love themselves.
Maybe you should try it sometime.

Now, if you want to try and suggest that this is a post complaining about complaining, then you one of two things...

A. Missed the point ENTIRELY
B. Are trying to deflect due to a guilty conscious

Seriously. Where the f&%k has our humanity gone.

Thursday, April 18, 2019

You realize how inactive and out of shape you are the day after doing home improvements...
My gawd, everything hurts. Maybe I'll splurge and go get a massage. Or maybe I'll take a hot bath. Or maybe I'll just sit here at my laptop, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and complain about it.

Speaking of home improvements... Chivalry is dead. DEAD, I tell you.

Also speaking of home improvements...
I still have to decide if I want to stay here or move back to the lake.
I've gone back and forth and back and forth for the last two and a half months, since that first email that Tom sent me, letting me know that the little cottage across the street from the beach was going to be available this summer. As many of you already know, it was the first place I rented after my divorce four years ago.
Most advise me that staying here is the more practical choice. This place will be paid off in 8 years. It's mine. Easy, affordable living. Well, minus the typical homeowner woes like furnaces, plumbing, hot water heaters, bla bla bla.
A few, but not as many, advise the opposite; that I should go back to the lake. That I was happier there.
I've done the pros and cons list and gone over it again and again and again. It's not helpful.
Sigh. I wish I knew what to do.

I lean towards going back to the lake. I miss the water, so very much. 
And as far as owning this place... I'm not certain that I'd stay here "forever" even if the lake house weren't an option; I am cursed with the tendencies of a gypsy. 

Regardless of where I live, I'm anxious to have my life back. Not necessarily my life, per say; but, my space, my way of living, things being as I want; solitude. Living alone isn't always great, but it's not horrible either. And as I've mentioned before, at some point I grew accustomed to it, and evidently, to prefer it.

Minus the boy... that part still sucks. So badly that I can't even put it into words.
It's been just over a month. I've seen him maybe four or five times since then. Brief visits, a tennis match. I rarely ever speak to him, unless I text or snapchat him. It's not much of a mother-son relationship. A few weeks ago I cleaned and organized his room, it looks better than it ever has. I wanted him to be happy with it, and be reminded that he still has a room here (a pretty cool one, at that). He's indifferent. Actually, he can't even be described as indifferent. There is absolutely no indication that he'll be coming back. Quite the opposite, actually. His preference for his father's house, and what his life is like there, is obvious.
And it's broken my heart. More than any other boy has been able to.

Maybe, like all the other boys, he just decided he didn't like me very much anymore.
It's not that far fetched...
I am, after all, difficult, controlling, jealous, stubborn, moody, stoic and serious, insensitive, overbearing, high-stress, impatient, demanding, critical... Jeezus, I could probably go on and on.


I've been writing this blog off and on since late morning. It's now almost 5pm, and I've hardly moved from my desk all day. Only to make more coffee. Or go to the bathroom. Let the dog out. Check the leak under the sink (which I thought was under control, until I ran the dishwasher, and once again there is a small pond under there)... The Wayfair and Poshmark websites got the best of me today.
How does that happen? Almost a full day- gone.

I've got to run in town and do crap. And then I think I'll go to live band karaoke at the Pour House. Get my singing fix. It's better than therapy or meds. I'll go by myself, as the couple of friends that I do have won't be going tonight for one reason or another. Maybe I need more friends.
Ehhhh, Nah.

Sunday, April 14, 2019

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to 
the one who lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer, prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

Monday, April 1, 2019

Coffee and Blogging. I needed both. So why not. Who cares that it's too late for coffee.

My boy left me the first time in early April of 2016, when we were still living on the lake. He stayed away for TWO years. I lived here in this place for almost a year before he came back. And now, almost exactly one year after that, he is gone again.
He's been gone two weeks now (since our spectacular fight two Mondays ago). We've since called a truce, apologized to one another. I've seen him twice in two weeks, just brief visits. Once on the Sunday after our fight, when we had our truce conversation, and once when he came to work this past Saturday night for dinner after semi-formal.

To him, things are peaceful now, the air is clear, his conscious is clear. Now he can live life and be happy without this conflict or any guilt looming over his head. When he offered me the olive branch, I knew this was the reasoning behind it.
And so, for my boy, things are back to normal, life is good.

And my life is back to being exactly what it was when this happened three years ago.
I don't expect it to change, either. I'll maybe see him once a week, but only if I push for it. It'll probably be less frequent. I'll only talk to him via text or snapchat, but only when I initiate it.
And I'm not being negative, I'm being realistic. This is the pattern. This is how it happens. He stayed with both of us equally for most his life. Then one day he just stopped coming to my house. He didn't come back for two years. And once he did, he then stayed primarily with me. He went to his dad's to visit, but didn't stay. And his dad felt what I felt for all that time. And now, one year after his return, he is gone again. And I suspect, I'm pretty sure, that this is how it will stay.

A few years ago, living alone was terribly difficult for me. I missed my boy so much, I had no live-in partner. I was alone, and I hated it. I went into a pretty severe depression. I didn't recognize myself. I was sad, every single day. The kind of sad that makes you think there really is no reason to go on. It was about that point that I realized I needed help. I started seeing a psychiatrist again. Went on a few different medications, and have stayed on them the last couple years to try to keep that sadness at bay. It's still a battle. It became easier when the boy came home. But now...

Once again, I am preparing to live alone. I have to believe that since I am managing my depression, and that I have lived through this before, that I can do it again. Hopefully this time less painfully.
But I wasn't prepared to lose my boy again.
When I made the decision to live without a partner, I always pictured still living with my boy. Just the two of us. I looked forward to that. I wanted that back in my life again. I was so excited for it.
Alas, the universe is fickle and ironic and fucking cruel.
For the longest time after he came back, I lived every day waiting for that moment when he left again. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. I guess I always knew it would.

And now I am faced with another dilemma.
Trying to decide between staying here, or going back to the lake (the small cottage overlooking the lake that I lived in when I first moved there in 2015).
There are some moments, when I am so sure that I am going back. I start cleaning and liquidating and packing. I remember all the sunrises and sunsets over the water. The sound. The peace.
And then there are other moments when I doubt it, I second guess it. I look around and I think- but this is mine. Even though I didn't really want it, even though it's not ideal. It's mine.
It doesn't help that I'm so sad and furious about what's happened with my boy. That pain makes me want to leave here more than anything. Tomorrow. Now. Yesterday. I know that's the hurt and anger talking. I try to be rational. As analytical as I am, I have been guilty of making emotionally charged decisions before.
I wish I were more decisive. But unfortunately indecision is a curse I have always been plagued with.

I don't know why, but I spent a lot of time skimming through the last three years of my blogs. I suppose I was looking for an answer. Or at least even just perspective.

But all it did was cause more confusion. 
I spent the last few years going back and forth like a friggin seesaw Sometimes being alone was so difficult that I didn't know if I could go on. Sometimes I tolerated, even enjoyed being alone.
Some days I was convinced that buying this place, moving here, was the right thing to do. Some days I was miserable because I missed the lake so much.

And it only made me more sad.
The resounding tone throughout was how badly I missed my boy. How devastated I was by that. Two fucking years I lived it.
Another frequent mention was how much I missed the lake.
Now I miss both. I live without both.
Missing the lake was made more tolerable by having my boy back. Actually, everything was made more tolerable by having my boy. Everything was better. Life, was better.

Many people say- they all eventually grow up and leave the nest. Well, yeah. Duh. Of course they do. And of course I know this.
But that is not what happened. Not last time three years ago. Not this time.

When I posted pictures of him coming to visit me at work for dinner after semi-formal, my mother commented- "You are blessed!"
But am I? Why would I be? Because I saw him once this week, for 45 minutes at work?
It was so terribly familiar... That feeling... of  being so elated to see him, to hug him. And then the horrible pain that rushes back in when he leaves. Missing him. Empty without him.
Now I get to live like that again.
Like I said, I hope that since I lived it for two years, I can live through it again.
But sometimes I'm not so sure. It's a constant and intolerable ache. Sometimes I can push it aside. And sometimes it just hurts too much.

Melatonin, Benadryl, please just get me to sleep so I can escape it for a few hours.

Friday, March 22, 2019

I apologize for the cryptic posts on Facebook this week. But things are pretty dreary for me right now.

My boy and I had a huge fight Monday. It was the ugliest fight I've ever had with either of my children, and it ended with him packing his things and going to his dad's. If we've spoken at all since, it has been primarily through text about him getting the rest of his things, and it hasn't been pleasant.

I'm too demanding, too hard on him, I nag too much, I'm not understanding.
And yet his sister tells me I'm far too tolerant, a pushover, even... "You would have NEVER let me get away with HALF the stuff you let him. If I'd ever spoken to you the way he does, you would have punched me in the face!"
But to him, I am all of those things.
I said to her, "Not to diminish what we have or what you mean to me hunnie, but most times I feel like your brother is all I have. You are grown and out on your own, and I couldn't possibly love you more or be any prouder of you. But he was all I had left here. He was all I focused on, all I cared about, all I've built my life around."
And it's true. He made my life worthwhile, meaningful, whole. Now it's just.. not.

But he could also push my buttons better than any person I know. Well, second to his father. Funny story about that... Norton (RIP), a very good friend of ours, was arranging a betting pool at our wedding (we fought like cats and dogs). Because my boy has much of his father in him, I think it makes our challenges that much more difficult.

Everyone keeps saying- it'll come around, just give it time, bla bla bla. And maybe that's true. But him and I have a history of disconnect. You've all seen it, watched me go through it. And as much as he thinks I don't; I understand him, I get him. Once it finally calms down, however long that may take, he'll have become more comfortable staying at his father's again. That'll have become home to him, and my home will be foreign. As it happened before, when he stayed with his dad for a year. And then as it did here at my house, this past year that he's stayed with me. It's just the way it works for him. The last thing he said to me this week was that we need a break, a long one.
I don't expect him to come home. I wish it, but I don't expect it.

And who knows what our relationship will be moving forward.
You know, I've seen people over the years who don't have close relationships with their children, or with their parents. And I've always thought- That's so strange, and so very sad. How can that be?? And now I know.
This is how.

And so I've just been trying to get through the week. Through each day. The day after our fight, Tuesday, was a tough one. And more than slightly embarrassing. I couldn't keep my shit together even though I was working. I had several breakdowns throughout the day. Sometimes I managed to get to the bathroom or out back first, sometimes I didn't.
My last customer of the day, Kate (god love her and her brutal honesty), sat down at the bar and ordered her beer while chatting away to the others. When she finally looked up at me she said- "Jeezus! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Evidently by the end of the day, I looked exactly how I felt.

The rest of this week has been more of the same. Passing time, trying to stay busy, occupied. Trying to keep it together. Crying hysterically one minute, silently furious the next.

And once again my house feels empty.

I have the cat, and the dog. And yes, I only have Blaze now. Walter has a fantastic home with my friends (and some of you know them as well), Robin and Tyler. It really couldn't have worked out any better for him.
I will be a one income household again. Things will be financially tight enough as it is, I'm quite sure being able to afford one cat and one dog will be challenging enough. And it'll only be me here. I may have to work more to make things more comfortable, and I start school in may. I'll be very busy and I won't have anyone to help manage everything.

Oh, because if you didn't already know, Phil and I recently had a discussion about our living arrangements. More specifically, how they need to change. I'll admit to being the protagonist of that conversation. I just think it best, for all of us. I can't speak for him, but I am confident that he will be happier back in his hometown, where his children are, and not 100 miles from work.
And not living with the miserable version of me.

Even before my boy left, I was miserable. Well, maybe not miserable, that's too harsh. But definitely not joyous. I tried to get used to sharing my space again, to living with another person/people. I tried for months, and I failed. I became even more difficult to live with than I already am. I have been snappy, knit-picky, intolerant, unkind, even, at times. And no, I don't like myself for it.
And yes, it is so goddamn ironic. For the longest time, the past few years, I have whined and complained about being lonely. Evidently, somewhere along the way, I grew accustomed to living alone.

Speaking of living circumstances... My old lake landlord, Tom, emailed me a couple of weeks ago to let me know that one of his properties would be available this summer. It's the little cabin across the street from the lake, the one I first moved into in the fall of '15.
It's much smaller than what I have now, and it would be going back to renting. I have been weighing all the pros and cons.
As far as owning this place... I'm not sure I'd stay here long-term even if the lake weren't an option. Sooner or later I'd probably want to move again. I think it's a wandering curse of some kind. I am my father's child.
And, although I try not to make decisions while I'm this upset, given the recent course of things, I feel like I have no reason to stay here anymore.
And even though that house isn't directly on the water, I'd still have a great view. And I'd have unlimited beach access right across the street along any of Tom's other three properties (his other two rentals, and his). He is actually hardly ever up here, maybe one week out of the summer. So I would have his beach to myself all spring and fall, and the majority of the summer.

This was the one, when I lived there (you can click to view larger)...


The boy told me (before our fight) that he didn't really want to move back there, that this place was home now. He said that if it were the other house we were in, right on the beach, that maybe he wouldn't mind (I think because that house was quite a bit bigger?). I told him that I would take that into consideration, but ultimately it would be my decision.
Now of course, that's moot.

I am leaning towards going back. Although I am trying to work out some details with Tom. He is still hesitant about the dog (he has a strict no pets policy). Last summer he was going to allow him when I was considering his other beach property (that I eventually turned down because of it's cost). So I'm hoping that'll be the case again. He's difficult to nail down. I need to get confirmation from him so I can either disregard this, or start planning, if I do decide to go back.
I would need to sell this place. I'd advertise it for sale outright to begin with. If I don't have any luck, I will sell it back to the folks who financed it to me. I'll take a bit of a loss on my deposit, but it's an option.


I dragged myself up by my heels, and went out with two girlfriends last night. I sung a few songs at live band karaoke, and the girls and I laughed and laughed all night. Although the respite was temporary, it was just what I needed.

I have hardly slept or eaten all week. Today I sit here with a pounding headache and a bag of frozen peas on my head, trying to make myself get up, clean stuff, run errands, something.
I'll meet a few girls again tonight for dinner. I have to keep moving, mentally and physically.

Thank goodness tomorrow is my Monday and I'll at least have work to focus on for the next few days.

I tell myself... Keep busy, stay occupied, muddle through. Don't quit.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Monday, March 18, 2019

Coffee at 9:30 pm. Why not, I can't sleep anyway. So I may as well be doing something I enjoy. Drinking coffee. Me drinking coffee is one thing that never changes. It's the only thing I've found, in fact, that doesn't change. Because everything else, changes.

The more you try and hold onto it, whatever "it" may be, the more it changes.
It. All. Changes.
I remember saying once, a time ago- The only constant is change.
The only constant, is change.

Your kids change.
They learn and develop and grow... or at least you hope they do. You hope you've raised them well and right. You hope you've filled them with compassion and wisdom and decency.
And then they grow away from you.
Sometimes they come back. They do laundry every weekend, come to weekly family dinners, call and text daily.
And sometimes they don't. You were too strict, you were too demanding. Instead of seeing all you've done for them, how much you've sacrificed, how you've loved them, they see only what they want to see.
They change.

Relationships change.
Sometimes for the better, sometimes the worse. Everyone says it takes two, it takes consistent effort, it takes work, it takes this and that, and that and this, and a partridge in a pear tree... And yet, with all of it, they still change.
Ironically, even when stagnant, they change.

Other relationships change, too.
Friends get married, have kids, move away. Even best of friends grow apart.
Family ties loosen, unravel. Cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings, mothers and fathers; estranged.
And ultimately, even more painfully, they leave this place altogether.

Jobs change. And Jeezus, don't I know how they change. One day, it can be just up and gone. And you go searching and try to find it somewhere else. And it feels familiar, it feels almost enjoyable. You're doing what you love. Or what you thought you loved. And then one day you realize, you just don't love it anymore. In fact, you can hardly tolerate it. It's changed.

Cities, states, houses. The place you call home, changes.
Just when you think you have found your spot, your space, the place you're meant to be. Life happens. It changes. And then you become settled. And again, life happens. And it changes. Played on repeat. Or maybe you finally decide this place just isn't for you. You've spent enough time in it, trying to make people happy, trying to love, trying to find your niche. And yet it has nothing for you anymore. And it changes.

And from the tv in the living room I hear...

Why are there so many
songs about rainbows
and what's on the other side? ...

... Someday we'll find it
 the rainbow connection
 the lovers, the dreamers, and me

Oh, Kermit. Thanks for making me cry (again) tonight.
Or maybe it wasn't you. Maybe it was the growing away.

The growing away

It happens a little each day
So subtle, so unremarkable
But right in front of you
Ever happening
Ever changing

Pathways and directions 
forks in the road
Choices and decisions
Bits and pieces fall away
Turned to new and different things
Time passing

Years go by
And you finally see
As if waking from a dream
Familiar things replaced
New faces, new places, new spaces
Nothing as it was

The mirror shows your age
Wrinkled and gray
Husbands, wives, friends replaced
Siblings out of touch
Children transformed into adults
Loved ones gone beyond

It happened so slowly
Yet seemed so sudden
Saddened by alterations
too late you learn
You weren’t ready
For the growing away


Friday, February 1, 2019

You would have been 68 today.
You probably wouldn't be retired, because you were too much of a busy body to not work.
You'd probably have a new jacked up jeep, or fast classic car, or some other toy (or two or three) that you really didn't need.
Maybe you'd be playing music still (I know I'd try like hell to recruit you if you were). But probably not, because you said you were too old and tired for the late nights, and that you were sick of band politics.
Maybe mom would have conned you into singing/playing with the church by now, but I doubt it. Her and Nana would be driving you crazy at home, so you'd probably finish and fix up the garage so you could escape there.
Maybe you would have even joined Facebook by now. What a hoot that would be. I can only imagine the things you would share...
Much like me, you would have had a dozen new hobbies by now. Got tired of them, and developed a dozen more.
You'd be so proud of Logan and how well she is doing for herself. You would have seen her graduate from college. You'd like Andrew; he is so good to her.
And you'd love hanging with Dawson working on your cars together. You'd be helping Ben teach him all about all kinds of stuff. In fact, I'd probably never see you, you always did love hanging out over there.
You'd still carve the turkey on Thanksgiving, because none of us were ever any good at that.
You'd still be fixing broken stuff here for me at my house.
You'd advise me not to get that new car, or that new dog, or that new job, even though you'd be guilty of doing the same things.
I'd see you at family dinner every Sunday.
But none of those things will ever be. You've been gone just over 5 1/2 years. It's hard to believe it's been that long, because even as I write this, it hurts just as much as it did then.
As much as I hate to, I'll have a Coors light for you later (as I do every year on your birthday and father's day).
I miss you so goddamn much.
Happy birthday, Dad.