We wanted to be with mom on this first anniversary, to mark the passage of a full year without him. It's still unreal and the hurt is still fresh and raw, but we also feel a strange sense of accomplishment at having survived every single calendar day from one July 23 to the next. Now it's like we are turning a page, we've weathered the worst of this storm and we know that although every holiday, anniversary, birthday and Sunday will be less fun without Dad; we can redefine our expectations to reflect this new reality, and we're going to be okay.
We honored Dad on the first annversary of his death by coming together to scatter his ashes.
Yeah, I sound brave. Aren't I brave?
It was perfect. It was brutal. Brutally perfect.
Once everyone had arrived, we went with some of Mom and Dad's dearest friends out onto the waters of the Long Island Sound. We were determined to make this a celebration of Dad's life.
|The Oscars came aboard.|
|The captain's qualifications were questionable, at best.|
|The passengers were lovely, but don't get me started on that cheese.|
|We foraged out into the sea.|
Our hosts had a spot in mind, a place with a landmark that we could remember and revisit.
And we cried and we cried together, then slowly we welcomed the laughter back. Together.