February 21st–one year apart

Last year in the very wee hours of the morning of February 21st, a phone call woke me up to tell me that my father had just died.

This year in the very wee hours of the morning of February 21st, an alarm will wake me up to tell me that my travels to my father’s hometown, where he will be honored, along with his own father, is about to begin.

My father would have liked the symmetry.