Today I’m convinced my brain makes connections of which I’m rarely aware. I hadn’t been thinking about him. I hadn’t been missing him. I hadn’t been angry about him being gone.
And then I woke up today and I was sad-like crawl back into bed, don’t want to get up, just want to cry my little eyes out, sad. And I couldn’t figure out why. I had a dr. appointment, and knew it would lead to surgery, so that wasn’t it. The puppy is healthy and happy. My husband is healthy and happy. My family is doing well, so why the sudden desire to cry?
And then my brain reminded me. Today is the day. Thirteen years ago, my daddy died. It wasn’t expected and it wasn’t pretty. It was horrible and hard and too much for my 17 year old brain and heart to really understand. I didn’t deal with it, didn’t really process it, for years. But, I have now. I thought that would make it easier. But, the truth is, it’s hard. There are days that go by where all I want in the whole world is to call him up and tell him about my life. There are days when I would walk through darkness and back just to get another hug, hear his laugh, or have one more conversation.
And, today, I feel for my sister and my two brothers. Their dad has been gone for over 1/2 of their lives now. How much of him do they remember? Do they remember the silly stuff we did, the rhasta music, the big bear hugs? Do they remember Sunday morning rituals and the joys of sharing a bathroom? Do they remember how his eyes gleamed when he laughed and how much, how very much, he loved his babies?