Today was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, Trevor was home, Fletcher was happy and healthy, we had a nice dinner at my dad's favorite restaurant with my entire family (except my 16-year-old sister who was, get this, sleeping. At 6:30 pm. Oh, 16-year-olds) and all the kids were even relatively well-behaved. It was a great time, except for one thing, the occasion we were marking with this dinner. It is the five-year anniversary of my dad's death. Five years ago today he was driving my then-just-turned-11-year-old sister to choir practice when he suffered an unexpected and fatal heart attack.
I know this blog is supposed to be mostly about Fletcher, and I try to keep it upbeat even in the face of all of our challenges, but I just couldn't let today go by without at least acknowledging my dad and how much he is missed. I show Fletcher pictures of him from time to time, the grandpa he will never know, and I can't help but feel sad. You see, his personality was larger than life, and pictures alone could never do him justice, nor can a few little lines hastily typed on a blog in the middle of the night.
My little brother Kenny found another way to remember him, but he didn't use a blog (oh, 23-year-olds).