A date I can never remember . . .

I woke up Monday morning feeling anxious.

I hate Mondays, so it’s not out of the norm to roll out of bed loathing the day before it begins. But having an unexplained, nagging feeling is not normal.

While I was getting ready for work, I asked my mom to pray for me; that I was feeling anxious and unsettled, suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin.

Of course she asked me why, but because I didn’t have a definite answer,
I searched my brain for one as I grabbed my white sweater out of the closet.

· My car started funny the day before . . . that’s enough to send me over the edge any day.

· A friend of mine had an accident over the weekend and I was still waiting on the details.

· I had a meeting after work that usually isn’t a part of my weekly routine. I’m a girl who likes her routine. Take me out of it and I get a bit uneasy.

· My trip to Ireland and a new job are coming up faster than I expected.

· I’ve had a cold for over a month that I can’t shake. Turns out it’s Bronchitis.

They were valid reasons and definitely could be addressed through prayer, but it didn’t quite hit the nail on the head.

I still had that funny feeling that made you want to look over your shoulder every five seconds to make sure someone’s not there.

Monday came and went. The car started fine, I had an update on my friend, my cold was ever present, and it wasn’t so bad taking a break from my regular after work routine.

And yet, I still had that feeling.

I got home and my mom was cleaning her room. I sat on her bed and filled her in on my day like I used to when I was a teenager: sitting by the head board, legs crossed, pillow in my lap, running my fingers through my hair.

I told her I was still feeling uneasy when she paused and said quietly,
"You know, today is the 13th anniversary of Dad’s death?"

My mouth dropped, my mind went blank, and the anxious knot disappeared.
That was it! That’s why I had been out of sorts!

Then came the sadness because I had forgotten - again.

I can never remember the actual date of his passing, but I always get that unexplained ickiness around that time. Maybe my memory lapse is subconscious and I’m protecting myself. Maybe it’s because that chapter of my life ended and I don’t usually think about those days. Maybe it’s because I waited until I was an adult to deal with my grief and anger at losing parent at age 14.

I see my oldest niece now, same age as I was when he died, and think: "Wow, I was way too young to see what I saw, to hold it all in and tell myself I was fine."
Maybe, forgetting all that is how it should be?

The way I see it, forgetting about what happened the morning of February 20^{th, 1999, is perfectly normal. Dad would never want me to get stuck on something bad that happened. He would want me to reflect on all the good things that came from it; to see how the person I am today was from the moldings of what happened all those years ago.}
Dad never had time or patience to dwell on the past, and neither do I.

For me, I’ll remember him on his birthday, September 26, and forget about February 20th - until I need to place that unwelcomed anxiety next year.

Donald Anthony Klerowski
September 26, 1953 - February 20, 1999