My father learned a little bit of Russian, but I’d argue that this headline was pretty much all he knew. He used to speak to me in broken bits of Russian, German and French sometimes, but this is all I ever picked up. I should have listened more. Paid more attention.
My father passed away 5 years ago today, which is what prompted this post, naturally. I was under the impression that it was the 23rd, until my mother corrected me. And since then, I’ve become overwhelmingly upset, although I was totally fine before, when I hadn’t remembered. It’s almost as though there’s this underlying obligation to be sad, or else I’d be an unfeeling bitch. I do think of him often, even on days without ceremony or occasion. But I thought I’d give him a shout out, as he well deserves.
Here’s to you Popsi.