I woke my son up for school 7 years ago today after a sleepless night. I stood in the kitchen getting breakfast ready for him and had no idea how to tell him that DooDoo* had fallen asleep and didn’t wake up. It was the worst day of my life.

My father had fallen asleep in his recliner, my Mom went to wake him up to nudge him to bed and couldn’t wake him. When you’re awaken by a call from your mom after midnight, it’s never good news. I went to the hospital, then back to their house, then back home to get my son off to school.

I felt paralyzed and couldn’t find the words and didn’t know what to do. I looked in the fridge and there was a chocolate cupcake. Yes, we were having chocolate cake for breakfast.

“Dad is great, give us the chocolate cake” rang in my head. It was from Bill Cosby Himself, a comedy special I had watched a zillion times with my Dad (don’t @ me – this was pre-revelations when we still thought he was Dr. Huxtable).

In that moment, chocolate cake for breakfast was a momentary reprieve and a connection to my Dad who I couldn’t comprehend was no longer in this world. How was that even possible? He was just here. How can someone who has been there for every breath of your life just be gone in a New York minute?

It’s hard to believe it has been 7 years since that day; 7 years that feel like multiple life times. And also it feels like just yesterday, all at once. I remember some of those moments from that day so clearly; the shock, the anger, the sadness all rolled in a ball of emotion, not knowing what to do with all of that. It would take a couple years to process it all. And even today, I’m still processing.

Each year since, my son and I have had chocolate cake for breakfast on or around this day. And yet today, I forgot the chocolate cake. I didn’t connect the date until later in the day. So to the store I went, and the chocolate cake is ready for tomorrow.

While writing this, I’ve been listening to a playlist of songs that remind me of my Dad and remind me of moments with him. A mix of Sam & Dave, Elvis, the Beatles, bagpipes and Walking in Memphis. And Hallelujah.

Some are his favorite songs, others remind me of his favorite show (West Wing) or his favorite stories he told over and over (Amazing Grace at the Tattoo) or our last last family trip to Hawaii where my parents renewed their vows (Somewhere over the Rainbow and yes those 2 lasts were intentional since we he would guilt us into family trips by saying it was the last. There were at least 7 of those last family trips over the years). I danced with him to “Shower the People” at my wedding. And he used to play “Hey Jude” loudly on an 8-track tape in quadraphonic sound on the 1970’s stereo when I was kid.

And “True Companions”– a nod to my parents 52 year marriage – and the inscription on his headstone. Because yes, he had designed his stone and planned is funeral years before he died. He would say it was to make it easier on us. But he just wanted to make sure we didn’t mess it up. All of these songs bring special bittersweet memories. And bring me closer to him. And bring tears as well. Tears are cleansing. Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up and listen to this playlist again while eating chocolate cake.

Time may heal all wounds, but it leaves scars. Chocolate cake for breakfast makes those scars just a bit more tolerable.

*DooDoo – short for Giddoo, Lebanese for grandfather