On This Day
I have mixed feelings about Facebook's 'On This Day' feature.
Often times it is a treat to look back at my posts, to see what stupid things I said and the trivial things I was worried about. Pictures of myself and my family dating back nearly a decade. It's really kind of cool to see what I was thinking on this day, historically (so to speak).
I've laughed, I've rolled my eyes, and I've cried.
It has become my morning ritual to lie in bed and browse through memories every morning.
This morning I was greeted first thing by a post I made one year ago today.
A photo of myself and my sisters on either side of our Dad-- Dad looking deceptively healthy. If you didn't know the story behind that photo session, you might just believe it was a normal family portrait.
It wasn't, of course-- Dad had processed his terminal diagnosis and we wanted family photos.
It was bittersweet and if I'm honest, morbid-- but necessarily so. I cherish these photos so much now.
And accompanying the photo I shared on December 31st, 2015 were my heartfelt thoughts on starting a new year. I remember sitting down to type that post. I wanted to dig my heels into 2015 and white knuckle grip onto the arbitrary idea of a year that held a Rodney Gene within it.
Of course, time marches on, and 2016 came...
And went.
On December 31st, 2016 I find myself sitting in my recliner and staring blankly at my phone, trying to put what I feel into words.
I wish I could explain how hard it was for me to go through 365 days without one single, tangible hint of you in it, Dad.
Not one hug, one belly laugh, one witty quip. There were no lectures, no comments on my tattoos, no cold beer on the porch. There was no spontaneous harmony.
From January 1st to December 31st there has been an overwhelming absence of you, Dad.
And here we go, setting up another round.
One day at a time.
Often times it is a treat to look back at my posts, to see what stupid things I said and the trivial things I was worried about. Pictures of myself and my family dating back nearly a decade. It's really kind of cool to see what I was thinking on this day, historically (so to speak).
I've laughed, I've rolled my eyes, and I've cried.
It has become my morning ritual to lie in bed and browse through memories every morning.
This morning I was greeted first thing by a post I made one year ago today.
A photo of myself and my sisters on either side of our Dad-- Dad looking deceptively healthy. If you didn't know the story behind that photo session, you might just believe it was a normal family portrait.
It wasn't, of course-- Dad had processed his terminal diagnosis and we wanted family photos.
It was bittersweet and if I'm honest, morbid-- but necessarily so. I cherish these photos so much now.
And accompanying the photo I shared on December 31st, 2015 were my heartfelt thoughts on starting a new year. I remember sitting down to type that post. I wanted to dig my heels into 2015 and white knuckle grip onto the arbitrary idea of a year that held a Rodney Gene within it.
Of course, time marches on, and 2016 came...
And went.
On December 31st, 2016 I find myself sitting in my recliner and staring blankly at my phone, trying to put what I feel into words.
I wish I could explain how hard it was for me to go through 365 days without one single, tangible hint of you in it, Dad.
Not one hug, one belly laugh, one witty quip. There were no lectures, no comments on my tattoos, no cold beer on the porch. There was no spontaneous harmony.
From January 1st to December 31st there has been an overwhelming absence of you, Dad.
And here we go, setting up another round.
One day at a time.
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