Honor the Past. Live in the Present.

 

1978

Happy St. Patrick's Day, friends. 

If the "wearin' o' the green" is your thing then may your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow.

Everyone has a different definition of the day.

For me, it will always be a reminder of the death of a parent. Look, no matter how I try to spend the day, I'll always remember St. Patrick's Day as the day my father passed while watching The Quiet Man.

He was 59.

I was 20.

The impact was immeasurable.

The simple fact is that life must go on and so it shall.

But there's not a day that I don't think of him or my mom for that matter.

I miss him because, well, I guess I was just getting interesting. I could use his advice on a variety of topics. There was so much more living to be done.

And it was all gone in a flash.

When that day started -- Mar 17, 1989 -- I was heading to my job in the General Foods mailroom in Rye Brook. I had looked into a promotion to the accounting department though I was told that it was rare to get moved up that quickly.

It was otherwise a normal Friday. I had to do some shopping and then I thought about just staying home that night. Instead, I got pulled to go to dinner before being greeted in a driveway.

I was told to get home.

My mind swirled.

My dad's car was in the driveway but nobody was in the house. That was completely strange.

An ashtray was on the floor, the ashes scattered.

I was still calm but befuddled.

Then a phone call.

Then those words.

Life changed on a dime.

Thirty-four years have passed. I can hear his voice (it's basically my voice). I can see his smile (given I look like him). And I still hear stories.

St. Patrick's Day, 2023 will feature basketball. It's March Madness, just as it was that Friday night in 1989 when I watched a North Carolina replay at some godawful hour when I couldn't sleep.

But life will go on and I feel like I'm droning on by even writing this post today.

I got that promotion. I never got to tell him that or have him hear my radio work or introduce him to Sean and so many other things.

You can say "he knows" but that simply is sufficient for me.

I miss him. Today and every day.

There are those who think it gets easier over time. I would dispute that.

Hug your loved ones.

An Irish proverb: You’ve got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your father was.

Fitting for today.

Sláinte.