It comes and goes

I was fine all day yesterday until right before dinner. It just hit me that Dad is never going to walk through the front door again. I'll never hear his, "Hey, Rach," and know the comfort of his embrace. I finally ended up walking down the road, crying. I know I looked pitiful, but I had to get it out.

My brother Danny came driving past. He stopped to ask what I was doing. Didn't take long for him to figure it out. I got in his truck and cried. He drove me around the neighborhood so we could talked.

The next time I visit Mom, Dad won't be here. That I won't get a call in the middle of an afternoon from him as he's driving by our I-95 exit on his way to Stuart, FL. Or, he won't be stopping by for the night at Hotel Hauck.

In ten years, I'll still be here, but we'll be remembering the tenth anniversary of his death. It just became overwhelming. I miss him so much.

I used to say that missing someone or something is good. Otherwise, that thing, that time in your life or that person didn't mean anything. I guess I should listen to my own advice, but death is so different than moving on in life - graduating from college or moving away from the old home town.

Death is permanent. The person never comes back. I suppose I'll be wrapping my heart and mind around this for awhile. My dad is gone.

It was good to talk with Danny. He's a great big brother. Then, last night, Mom recounted the events of last Wednesday and Thursday leading up to Dad dying. He never, ever complained. But when Mom came home from work on Thursday and Dad said, "You better take me to Emergency Care," she knew it was serious.

I woke up this morning with the notion that God the Father is my Dad now, more so than ever. He's Husband to Mom. The bar has been raised. God is a father to the fatherless. Husband to the widow. He has to take care of Mom, be our father ALL the more cause he can't deny Himself.

Today we are cleaning up around the house, doing some yard work and putting away Christmas ornaments, hanging the stuffed 17 lb Northern Pike Dad caught in Canada a few years ago. He was the only one who caught a fish that day.

Thanks to everyone who's commented on this blog, emailed me and called. Thanks to Steve and Uncle Phil for coming, for all the people who came from out of town for Dad's memorial service. All the people in town who came.

To my family, I love you all! Let's have a reunion soon. Dad would like that.