I have the odd truth of having November 2 be a super meaningful day for me.

In 1996 I was married on November 2.  It was fun, in part, because it was my great-grandmother’s birthday and she was able to attend that day.  John and I got married in the morning and had a lunch reception.  We ordered Italian delivery for dinner while we tore open envelopes.

In 2014 I saw my dad alive for the last time on November 2.  I watched him shine and talk with my son from his hospice bed in a beautiful home in a residential neighborhood.  Most of the rest is a blur.  He had 9 days left, which I’m grateful also included time with my brother.

This November 2 I’m spending with my son (who has the day off of school).  He wants to make a schedule and put it in his computer so he knows how the day will go.

I wish I knew too.  I have been fragile recently, prone to tears, ready to spend money, unwilling to sit and I don’t know quite how long it will last.  I miss dad.  I miss John.  I miss my great grandma.  Part of being in your 40s is an elongating list of people you don’t see anymore – just the truth of things.  This weekend, it is a bit heavy.

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