Another First

This Sunday will be my first birthday without my Dad. Mom told me that since she could get through her's in January I'd get through mine. Sure, I'll get through it. I just hope I don't have a meltdown in front of my nephews! I really don't feel like celebrating. And it's not because I'm rapidly approaching my sixth decade, although that would be enough to make any woman cry. No, it's because my Dad won't be there with his big bear hug and grinning, birthday greeting for his "little girl." It's goofy because I'm the oldest and least slender of his three daughters yet he always called me his "little girl." In return I called him "Big Daddy." We had fun with that. . . When does the pain of loss go away? It's been five months and it still feels so raw. I know there's no timetable for grief. And I suppose I'm working through it because it's slowly getting a little easier to accept. Still, I can't help feeling cheated -- I wasn't ready to let him out of my life!