musings of wrath

Today’s the 12th anniversary of the day my father died. September’s always been a bad month for me, but so far, it’s not been so bad.

Other than not having a job.

Kat and I are doing great together, I’m not stressed out, and I’ve got a positive outlook. I couldn’t have said that this time of year the past 12 years.

My mother always breaks down this time of year, and I tend to do the same, in my own, private sort of way. Usually I’m quiet, and stay at home. Not this year. I was out of town for my father’s birthday on the 15th, and enjoyed myself. I was out of town all this past weekend, and enjoyed myself.

Tonight, I’m going to do something different. I’m going to remember this date for the good things my father gave me - my life, my stubborness, my morals, my ethics, and I suppose my hair color, too.

I watched some Eddie Izzard earlier, and he said something that I’d thought before, but forgotten since - celebrate the lives of those you’ve lost, don’t mourn their loss. Would you rather people mourn you, or celebrate you?

My life may not be perfect, at the moment, but damn it, I’m happy with who I am, happy with my love, Kat, and happy with my friends. I’ve grown closer to some that I hadn’t expected, and I’ve grown apart from some that I wish I hadn’t, but I’ll rectify that some day.

The one thing that’s always made each year easier and easier to put behind me - the Camarilla, and the ICC in October. I’ve not missed one yet, and once it nearly put me in the poor house making it - not to mention nearly getting stuck in Cleveland.

Here’s to my father, here’s to my friends, and to their friends. May we live long, and celebrate each other when we pass.