We all experience loss in our lives. For those we’ve lost, there are no real replacements.
I need to replace the focus of this post, now, and tell you it’s the anniversary of the death of my father, who passed away in 1997.
While nobody could ever replace my father, I did re-place my father’s name — Aaron — on the birth certificate of my son, who was born a year after my father left this world.
Yes, my father and his only grandson never met. I sometimes wish I could replace that reality with a different outcome.
This might be a pale replacement for actually meeting his grandfather, but my son hears great stories about my father all the time, no matter where we go. Just last week in California, my friend and college roommate, Marcia, shared memories of my dad with me and his 17-year-old namesake.
By writing about my two irreplaceable Aaron’s, I’ve replaced my original intent for this post, which was to show you these:
I ordered those pens online a few weeks ago, before I left for California. While none of them can replace this pen I’ve probably lost:
… they can each make me smile, too.
What other replacements can I place here, now?
Somebody is trying to replace our real experience of winter in Boston with an advertising campaign.
This tissue box in one of my group therapy rooms is empty. I’ll be bringing in a replacement box, today.
In a therapy group yesterday, we tried to replace self-blame with acceptance and love.
I am waiting for some warmer weather to replace some of this friggin’ snow.
What might you place here for a replacement song? I’m ending with The Replacements performing “When It Began.”
If you can’t see that Replacement video, please re-place your cursor over to YouTube, where I found it.
Is there anything you’d like to replace, in this post or elsewhere?
Thanks to all those irreplaceables in my life, including my father, my son, and you, my wonderful readers.