Quiet these last few weeks. Reflective.
Humbled by the amount of people who came to Dad’s Mass and sent food or cards or emails or texts.
Missing my dad – missing the dad of my childhood who made me laugh. Remembering that he wasn’t a saint and he could be a miserable SOB when he wanted to be. Wishing I had visited him even more than I did when he was at the nursing home.
Thinking about so many of my life decisions I made because of his influence – now knowing they were not necessarily the directions I would have taken in my life if he had not been in it.
Remembering that he was the best father he knew how to be and forgiving him his addictions.
Watching and trying my best to help my Mom navigate this world without him. Making sure I call her every day and include her every time I go out somewhere so she can get out of that apartment that holds so many memories.
My mom has started the great clean out….prompted by my sister referenced below. She is getting rid of so many of my father’s belongings and ships and planes that he built. His many hats, walking sticks, watches, ties, etc. I asked and received his two rings that he wore his entire life until he became so thin they slipped off his fingers. I have a little corner set up in my family room with some mementos that make me smile when I glance over at them.
My sister and I have not spoken to each other since the day after the funeral when she woke me from a deep sleep and insisted that we meet to discuss ” the mixed messages” I was giving my mom concerning where she was going to live. After throwing my phone across the room, I decided it was better for me to remove her from my auto dial for a while. Now, I don’t know how to smooth the waters.
Dad is still not in his final resting place – some clerical error at the nursing home – but I think his ashes will finally be laid to rest on April 5th.
Remembering how lost I felt at the luncheon after his Mass and realizing who I was looking for. I always took care of my Dad at these functions …found him a chair, made sure his ice tea glass was full, held his arm when he was coming and going, and he wasn’t there to be taken care of this time.
Miss you, Daddy.