Happy Birthday, Daddy.

Today is my father's birthday.  He would've been 62.

I have a running dialogue in my head.  I think most people do.  Sayings you refer to during different times, to help you through hard situations.  Many of my dad's sayings roll through my mind, as I've shared on this blog, and this is another one I think of often...

Dadism:  Yeah, well, my daddy's ugly and my momma's got a hair lip.

Meaning... Everyone's got excuses.  You're no better or different, so shut up, pull yourself up, and finish.

I can't tell you how many times I think of it and chuckle to myself.  When I'm running and want to quit.  When Chris is gone for a month training and I'm tired-- physically, but also tired mentally and emotionally from being a single mom to three boys.  When I'm making dinner for the 6,000th time for people who will undoubtedly cry, tell me they hate it, and refuse to eat it.  When I think of Chris deploying again.  For nine months.  Or longer.  When the alarm clock goes off and I feel a sense of guilt after a feeling of "Groundhog's Day!" washes over me.  When I miss my dad and the idea that he's really gone is really real.  But I think of him, and his ridiculous comment, and I'm reminded that I can do it.  I will do it.  And really, I should just shut up, pull myself up, and finish.

I was reading a fitness article recently and came across a line I just love.  It read:

"Quitting heroin is hard.  Beating cancer is hard.  Drinking your coffee black is.not.hard."

Now I can't say I'm there yet (all that black coffee business is nonsense) but I love the message and it now floats along in my head along with many of my dad's favorite sayings.

I was listening all of those years, Dad.  It stuck.  And so you live on in my thoughts and actions every single day.  I hope your day in heaven is filled with music and laughter and a glass of wine.  I wish there was a way to be with you again… even if it was only for a few minutes.  There are no words to describe how very much I miss you.

Today, I celebrate you, Dad, and your life, and everything that made you, you.  Thanks for making me, me.