A five percent day.

New Year's Eve 2008. No one could ham it up for the camera like my Daddy-o. 

It is Father's Day in Norway today, and so I am missing my dad. It's funny what hits you and what doesn't when you've lost someone. Father's Day last year was fine, the one year anniversary of his death was fine. His birthday was not fine, and now today is not fine either. 

It's just not fair that he's not here. That other people's kids get to have pink-cheeked grandfathers in good health, and mine only have one. It's not fair that other people get to obliviously write posts on Facebook stating: "Happy Father's day to the best dad in all the world! My dad is better than yours!" And it's not fair that he's not here when I want him to be. 

He loved being Espen's Grandad. 

And it's not fair that I'm starting to run out of pictures of my dad, especially ones of just him and me together, which means that I have to reuse the ones I have when I blog about him. Which doesn't sound like a big deal, but is actually a huge deal. 

Most of the time I'm a grown up and a rational human being about this. I'm used to talking about my dad that passed away, and can do it without bursting into tears all over the place now. I've even mentioned that he died and laughed in the same sentence (although I feel I need to clarify that I was laughing at something that somehow tied in, not at him dying, of course. Please understand). Ninety-five percent of the time I am perfectly well adjusted and accepting and philosophical and an absolute model of ideal bereavement behavior. And then the other five percent... I am none of those things. 

Today is a five percent day. Today I am resentful of people with living fathers. Today I am holding back the tears when people are looking, and letting them flow when they aren't. Today I regret not taking more pictures of just me and my dad together. Today I am looking at family pictures and watching old videos and wishing with all my heart that time could be stopped or events could be changed or that somehow, something would fix it so I can just have my Daddy back. 

Tomorrow will be a ninety-five percent day again, I am sure. Tomorrow will be better. But for 

tonight, I just want my Daddy, please. 

December 2008.