Today marks 9 years since my dad died of small cell cancer (thanks a lot, Mad Men, for giving me that Betty Draper storyline a few months ago!). It’s a completely unremarkable anniversary, unlike the first 2 or 3 years, so I wasn’t expecting to feel distracted and odd about it. While it’s not as though I’ll forget dates, the past couple July 21sts have been ok. I even forgot about Father’s Day stuff this summer the way I have the past several years - that feeling of “oh yeah! I forgot about this holiday existing at all,” and I couldn’t even remember which Sunday in June it was. So I’m a little surprised to be caught off guard by the whole thing.

The funny thing is that this year I remember a lot of things about his physical and mental state last week or two of his life, things that 5 or 6 years ago I couldn’t remember at all, which gave me a feeling of panic at the time. My brain is definitely playing some tricks on me. I guess it’s a good thing that I got by with only 15 minutes of productivity today.