Today is the second anniversary of my dad's death. Tomorrow would have been his 65th birthday. With very strange timing, a friend of my dad's contacted me on Facebook today, not knowing there was anything significant about the date, but just reestablishing contact and wishing me well.

It's funny, but I mostly don't get sad when I think about my dad. Yes, I remember being there, seeing him die, but I also saw him do a lot of other things a lot of other times, and he only died once. So I've got one sad memory, but I've also got all these other memories, and they just feel more important, somehow. I remember shooting rifles at empty beer bottles with my dad at a lake outside Reno, riding inner tubes down a river in Wyoming, watching the movie "Troy" on one of my visits to see him in Nebraska (and him asking me repeatedly which ones were Trojans and which ones were Greeks), eating a carrot he pulled out of the ground and rinsed off for me when I was about 4 years old, setting off fireworks in front of his house outside Powell, WY, and watching his dog chase the Japanese flowers and pick them up in her mouth.

Anyway, so I'm thinking about my dad. I don't know if I would say that he was a good father, I don't know if I would say that he was a good person, but I loved him and I do miss him.