Numbers can be strange sometimes. Their ability to line up in seemingly coincidental-yet-fateful ways is fascinating. It’s the same with names, I suppose. The whole thing about the Lincoln and Kennedy assassinations always blew me away. The three events at the beginning of the movie “Magnolia” are so bizarrely coincidental that there’s almost no way they could have been accidents.

Two years ago today, on April 11th, my dad passed away. In 2003, he was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. People with stage 4 colon cancer generally only live for 3-6 months. But those numbers meant nothing. Aggressive treatments combined with a man whose will to live was greater than the diagnosis, allowed him 5 additional years. It was remarkable, really. So while it was unbelievably sad, I felt blessed that we had all that extra time. A few days before he died, my brother, sister and I were all at home together for the first time in over a year. It was as though he was hanging on for all of us to be a family one last time. A couple days later, he was gone.

Back to the numbers. April 11th of 2008 was also my nephew, Marco’s, 1st birthday. He was adopted from Columbia 7 months prior on September 11th. My dad’s birthday was {yep} September 11th. Is there something significant about the number eleven? Is it more than coincidence that birth, adoption and death dates all coincided with each other? Maybe and maybe not. If nothing else, I find it terribly interesting.

This is the first photograph of my dad that I ever took. I was about 5 or 6, using my little 110 camera I got from a garage sale.

This is my dad and I around that same year, on Father’s Day….. the hat was a gift from me  :)

And I took these of my dad with Marco, when we were all together…. the last photos ever taken of him.

Miss you, dad.