A year has passed...

Twelve months without Dad around. How could it be? We had a girls' night out last week with our table from MOPS. We went to an Italian restaurant for dinner, and I ordered a pasta dish. When it arrived, I just had to laugh and think of him.

Some background: I am a mix of mostly German and Scandinavian heritage, born and raised in Montana. We ate spaghetti, but frankly I'd had very little exposure to good Italian food. When hubby (well, fiancee at the time - we got married six weeks later!) and I graduated college our families celebrated with dinner at a local Italian place. I was feeling rather swank so I ordered shrimp scampi. When it arrived, there was a fork AND a spoon on the dish. Now what in the world was that spoon for?! I did know that I wasn't supposed to cut spaghetti, so I began twirling it onto my fork, managing a nice squeak on the glass plate in the process. Well, my almost-FIL (1oo% Italian, BTW) was sitting next to me and looked over at what I was doing and basically ripped the utensil out of my hand. I was stunned and unsure how to react. He then placed the fork into my right hand and the spoon into my left, and showed me how to properly load it :) I don't think he said a word throughout the entire process. I was a bit embarrassed, but what could I do other than continue with my meal?

You can bet that I never forgot that lesson - and I just have to smile whenever I see my entree complete with a shiny spoon. You may be gone, Dad, but you'll never be forgotten.