Dad, I got your sign.

Happy Father's Day to all the beloved dads in our lives, especially Mark, and all the wonderful dads who are no longer with us. Of course, on Father's Day I am especially reminiscent about my dad, who will be gone eight years next month. It's so hard to believe that much time has passed when it seems like, literally, yesterday.

One of the ways I process grief and difficult situations seems to be to think about things in the car. I remember that when my father died for months afterward the moment I turned the key in the ignition, my mind would wander and I would think about my dad. So intently, in fact, that sometimes I would get to my destination and have no idea how I got there, or remember the trip. Another thing I noticed when my dad passed away was that everytime I would go for a dusk/evening neighborhood walk with Jasper, a street light would blow out. It got to be so noticeable (and common) that I actually thought my father was sending me a message by drawing my attention to the blown out streetlight. I'm talking really common. Like every night. I would nod and say to myself, "Got it, Dad."

After a while, it seemed like the street light blowouts were not happening as much anymore, and I would only occasionally notice them. Then, last night, when pulling into the driveway at 2am after picking Cam up at the Senior Bash and dropping him off at a friend's house, my next-door-neighbor's street light blew out. It was simply startling because of the timing and how unexpected it was. I felt it was a direct message from my Dad on Father's Day, and chills went up my spine. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes, when you miss someone so much, that's the way grief works.

So, just like when I hear Louis Prima on the radio, last night I Got it, Dad.