So, today is the third anniversary of my mother's death.

I would say, "Can you believe it's been three years?" but, I think I say that each year.

Many of you were around during her illness and death, but as a refresher course, I am an only child, and my dad is in his seventies and works full time, but I'm kind of responsible for him.

My dad is a man of few words, and he can be a bit unpredictable at times and one of these times may actually be the death of me, though he is completely unaware. (see also: cell phone incidents)

I'm never sure what to do on anniversaries such as these, so I just call him and start a general conversation and see where it goes.

I called him today, and we decided to go out to eat, and I took great pains to select a restaurant that held no memories as my parents ate out a lot.

Right before I was going to leave work to meet him, my phone rang and I saw it was his cell number.

Nothing good ever comes from his cell phone, though I am getting better at modulating my reaction when he calls me, especially since I think he uses it to avoid remembering my numbers.

My dad: "Busy Mom?" (OK, he called me by my name, but you know the drill now)

Me: *tries not to crap pants because he should have been on the way to the restaurant by now and you really don't want him using the phone and driving. Trust me*

My dad: "I got a call (insert pause that is in his speech pattern because he is trying to kill me)..."

Me: (thinking) "What man, what? The doctor called? My alarm company called? My house is on fire? What?"

My dad: "...from Old Work Friend that Other Old Work Friend is dying in hospice and she's asking for me and Mr. Old Boss."

Me: "OK, just call me when you're done, then."

As I hung up the phone, I realized he was going to the very same place my mother died to watch someone die on the anniversary of her death.

Would he be OK? What am I going to say to him? (he's a Marine, he's not one for a lot of personal revelation) Should I have gone with him? Should I make him talk about it?

I paced around for a bit (it's what I do) and my phone rang only a few minutes later.

Did he want to talk about it? Did he just want to go home? I was ready to help.

My dad: "OK. Let's eat."

He suggested we just go to a place near where he was, and the place was one where they used to go all the time. As a matter of fact, the folks there came to her funeral and sent us a card.

I thought to myself, "Oh, well."

We got there, ordered and I braced myself to support him so he could let it out about his visit, his return to hospice to watch an old friend die, the place he last saw when my mother died.

After all, I thought, it will be good for him.

(inhale) Me: "So, how'd it go?"

My dad: "What?"

Me: (thinking) "What, 'what'?"

My dad: "Oh, the visit. She was asleep, I didn't stay. I'm getting the vegetables."