is just one more thing my Dad and I had in common. Or would we be Tauri? No idea what the plural form is and feeling too lazy to look it up…but either way we were both bulls.
Yesterday was my Dad’s birthday, he would have been 72. When I was growing up 72 sounded so old, and now it’s not even retirement age for folks. I sometimes think people are just getting younger or feeling younger because families are growing much later in life. Either way, 72 is too young to die.
A dear friend gave me this bracelet and gave my sister one too. Her mother taught her growing up that when someone passes away you celebrate their birthday not their death day. I think that’s a pretty cool way to look at it and have worn the bracelet every day this month.
I have recently decided there aren’t words that can describe the loss. Thankfully there are tons of words to describe the life. I am the blessed one but I still miss my Dad.
Yesterday there was a Mass for my Dad at church. The kids, my mom, my sister and daughter, and I went to Mass and then enjoyed breakfast together. Following breakfast, ndependently, we each drove to the cemetery and found one another had done the same. Shea was with me and she decided to put her stuffed monkey on my Dad’s site – it doesn’t have a stone yet. The others left gumdrops. My mom didn’t get out of the car but I know she liked it (and thought it was tacky at the same time). We all know it came from a good place and a bunch of very big hearts.