Dunno how much of what I want to write will get written today, but here's one short thing.
Today is the anniversary of my father's birth in 1931. He died in 1999. I've gotten used to his not being around (except for those sneak-up-on-me moments when I see something that it would've been great to tell him about), but there are a lot of things that make me think of him. And the reminder of the date has had me thinking about him, and the process of getting used to the fact that he's gone, since yesterday.
This message isn't a call for support (I'm not hurting now, just thoughtful), or really much of anything else other than a marker of my mood. Hey, it's a diary, right? I get to write some entries for myself. Even if too many entries lately have mentioned dead people. (That'll change; I've got one more bit to mention about my uncle's funeral, then a whole pile of more lively things I want to write about.) I could do a long riff about my father right now, and my reactions to his illness and death a few years ago, but no, all I want to do right now is mark the moment, a reaction to logging in and noting the date. I can write long essays another time.
I do need to get around to writing down the strathspey I composed in my father's memory though.