To fuss or not

August 30th is my Dad's death anniversary.  I woke up this morning and thought, It's been three years that he's been dead.  The first year, we made a big deal.  Since then, we've made less fuss over Dad's death day. And I often wonder, is that okay?  Am working on welcoming the shift . . . 

Top five happy memories of my Dad?  

  • (Though a foggy recollection, the image in my mind is a worn vintage photo.) Sledding down Lincoln Park's Hill from as high as the gazebo on my orange toboggan 
  • Albeit torturous at the time, learning how to play tennis at 6am -- an hour against the wall, then an hour on the courts (My unathletic self wasn't too interested, but I wanted to spend time with my Dad)
  • Barbecuing in the backyard old school, JC style with Dad at the grill 
  • Philosophizing with A. (Before A. entered the picture, Dad would constantly say to me, 'A rose with no bees buzzing around it, smells bad.')
  • (This is a tie!) Dad's feigning shock at what I thought was Dad's surprise 65th birthday party, but was a TV episode of "Perfect Proposal" (and I was the one who'd been whammiedAND dancing to Edelweiss at our wedding

Whether or not I make a big fuss, I remember the happy.