Every Now and Then

I don't talk/write about my daddy much on the blog. Most of the time, I have learned to be/act okay with the fact that he's not here anymore. But, every now and then, I let myself go to the place in my mind where all of the memories of him live. And when I do, I am made painfully aware of just how really, completely, totally gone he is. Do you ever stop and think about that? I imagine for most people who have ever dealt with any kind of grief, you know exactly what I'm talking about... the permanence of it.  

I can always muster up the courage to get myself through Christmas (actually, Christmas Eve is harder, because he loved it so much). When Christmas is over, though, and we get a collective fresh start, I get sort of stuck. It still doesn't feel right to me. Are we really starting another year without him?

When I am not visiting home, I can convince myself that he is still right there in Pansey, getting ready for his day... saying "I'm gone" when he leaves the house... eating dinner at the Cafe (which is lunch, in case you are reading this and didn't know him)... taking an afternoon nap... asking one of us to make a cobbler at 9:30 at night... acting goofy and saying random things like, "Girls, today somebody told me I needed a haircut-- it was myself, and I said, self, you need a haircut." Or, one of our favorites, "I hate it, I bloody hate it.  Freaky Blotch."   Or (for mom) whistling It's a Grand Old Flag when we asked for Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.  And best of all, ordering me a Fish Sandwich at Dairy Queen, then driving off  with no food because we were all dying laughing in the back seat.

I imagine him saying, "Pooh Bear," (his name for me for my entire life) and then I absolutely lose it when I realize I don't quite remember exactly how it sounded anymore.   I see him watching me walk to my car every single night from middle school until I left home and got married.  ( I spent the night at my Granny and Pa's house just down the road, but I was always too scared to go out to the car if it was dark.  Daddy would stand on the porch and watch until I got there).  

What I really miss, and I think Mom helped me realize this when she was giving me a pep talk... is having him for a cheerleader... my biggest fan.  He was always the person I could talk to and know he would listen and be interested, even in the boring, stupid parts.  See, I get very hung up on details, specifics... I worry about everything, and I mean everything.  But that never bothered him.  Or if it did, he never let it show.  I never felt like an odd ball or like anything was wrong with the way I naturally am.  He just put my mind at ease, and that's what I miss.  There are days, the hard, really hard days, when I know that if we could just have a 5 minute conversation, I could clear my head and think again.  I could get it all worked out because he just gets me (got me, whatever).  

Anyway, sorry to spew all of that heavy stuff on the blog- I shouldn't let it get this late and try to write anything that makes sense.  But, at least I feel a little better.

I'll end here with a little picture, circa 1988 or 89.  (Sorry for the terrible quality.  This was cut to fit a frame in college- I didn't know then how precious it would turn out to be, or I never would have butchered it.)