Everyone knows about 9/11/01. Everyone wants to remind us of 9/11/12 today, too, although they seem more interested in talking about Hillary Clinton than honoring the dead.
9/11/12 is also the day my father died. Here we are in Homosassa, Florida. My father liked this restaurant because he could watch the water and the cavorting monkeys on the little island nearby. There were so many little pleasures he found in life.
Seven years later, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop--my mother's health is fading. I think a lot about death and dying these days. Despite his overflowing optimism, Dad had these thoughts, too. Starting in the 1990s, he mailed 'Open in the Event of My Death' envelopes to me, which he periodically updated. During his final illness, he had me open the most recent one so we could review the contents. He'd provided a list of people to notify, actions to take, and a personal message to the church congregation, which I read aloud at the memorial.
How I wish I had another envelope to prepare me now.