Imagining dad. In love. With life.

I seldom mark anniversaries. Birthdays, and such. But every April 3, I honor my father. That’s the day he committed suicide. Sixty-five years ago. The suicide really never bothered me all that much. I put it in perspective. He was unhappy. With life. So he opted out. Maybe he did us all a favor. Himself, too. Who am I to judge?  I wrote him a letter. On the 50th anniversary. No letter this time. Only a mere pondering. In my blog. A reflection. That I’m a happy camper. Wishing to live forever. Maybe dad is living, too. In the spirit realm. Could be. He’s finally fallen in love. With life. Just like me. –Jim Broede