WOW! It has been a while since my last post. I need to really be better about this stuff.
I recently returned from a business trip to San Diego (a whale's vagina), and boy, did I have fun! I love the west coast. It is so... different. People say hello to you. There isn't a lot of haughtiness or attitude, and the food, well, let's just say, I ate (and drank) my face off. I want to move there... so much in fact that I am working my magic. I need a change of scenery. Sure, I have EVERYTHING here; a great group of friends, my funny, yet abrasive sister, and her family, a wonderful job... but I will be 35 and the east coast is really all I know. I think a change would be great.
Speaking of change, tonight I write with a heavy heart. Tomorrow marks the anniversary of my father's death from liver cancer, and you all know that the pain is there, but somehow I am managing to make the best of it. I miss Big Daddy a ton, especially this time of year. When I was a kid, I would dread chores with my dad, like raking the yard or stacking wood, but those memories always seem to come back to me when I see the leaves change. When I watch football, the memories of my dad in front of the TV with his feet up in his chair are evoked, and I chuckle that now, in my 30s, I am doing the EXACT same thing. I am so much like him sometimes, it is scary, but I wouldn't change it.
I wasn't there when my dad passed. My mom called me at work and said "we lost Daddy." My world stopped, the phone dropped and I began to wail in my office. Luckily for me, I have incredible co-workers who I am proud and privileged to call friends come right into my office and support me, even offering to drive me, in rush hour traffic, to the hospice facility nearly 40 miles out of their way. On my way home, I saw an 8-point buck on a side road in Weston just stop and stare at me. I felt like my dad was there, telling me he wasn't really gone, but I had to really look hard to see him.
I remember going to the hospice facility and seeing my mom and my sister hovered over my dad like he was still there, though he was gone. And at that point, I realized how peaceful he was. He wasn't in pain. He wasn't upset that he couldn't do things on his own. He was at rest and he was looking out for us. He assumed a new role, making sure that we were ok, and we were living. When they took him out to the hearse, I lost it. I knew he was really gone, and that my world was forever changed. The next few days were a blur. The calls, cards, trays of food, visits, e-mails, facebook posts, hugs, tears, and errands all wrapped themselves together.
A year has gone by. That is a long time but it flew. It seems like it was just yesterday I was on the beach with my Mom and Dad enjoying a Low Country Spring, and watching my dad see his grand kids play. I love those memories. I miss my dad. I miss him something awful. I am glad he was there though, especially when I needed someone to talk to. Even in his last days, he was always a great listener and he gave the best advice. I can't replace that. And you know what, I am pretty happy about that.
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