Inside I feel cold and dreary. And I definitely feel icy pellets in my heart.
I haven't written in a week. I've tried.
It's been the hardest week of my life so far. My memories keep flashing back as far as I can remember and then forward to last Sunday and then Monday.
Running my fingers through my Daddy's soft hair. Feeling the wrinkles at his eyes from a life time of smiling. Looking so much like he was simply sleeping. Wanting so bad for him to open his beautiful eyes. Hating the bitter cold that met my hands, the shiver from kissing his sweet face.
Knowing when I walked away I would never in this lifetime touch him again. I wanted so badly to hold his hands, but they were already folded over his chest and the blankets were up to his neck. I'm sure there was no need to close his chest, so I am thankful they protected us from that.
Looking at all the pictures and helping to straighten the house and prepare for the memorial service was hell in itself. Part of me longed to leave, to simply head home to snuggle my Hubs and boys in the comfort of my own world and try to block it out. I knew no one that would be there. It was not for my comfort and I didn't feel the strength to give strangers comfort.
You can't block it out.
I know the cardinals that keep hovering nearby were sent from him to comfort us. The day of his service a big, fat, bright red one stayed near the house all day. It hovered in the feeders, the trees, the scrubs and on the fence. It felt like he was watching out for all of us. Letting us know, that even though he wasn't beside us any longer that he was still near. And would always watch over Momma and his girls.
My whole life I have worked hard to make him proud. It was like a life mission, to be a person that my Daddy would be proud of. I saw him right before Christmas and we were talking about my career and things I had accomplished. The sparkle in his eye and the love in his voice when he told me how proud he was of all I had accomplished, that he always knew I would... even as sick as I was, I am so thankful my kids pleaded with me to go. If I hadn't, I would have never heard those words, I would have always wondered.
As I was searching for pictures, I realized that even though I had been home to see them, I'd been so busy making memories that I hadn't gotten a picture of us. Honestly, I took very few while I was home this time.
Funny, Arkansas is not my home. I've never lived there in my life. I guess where ever your parents are is where home becomes. I'm so thankful that my Momma and Daddy had so many years together. Even when they drove one another crazy (don't we all?) they still had that beautiful love for one another.
That picture book in my head is loaded to bursting, even without the most recent. The memories are overflowing. Game nights, midnight omelets (my Daddy made the most incredible omelets), learning to fish and to ride a bike, living in a camper while he went to school, arguments over homework, the celebrations when he would come home from TDY, exploring the world, always knowing my hero would rescue me, learning to drive, long talks about life and its challenges, banter about politics, buying audio books every payday when he'd first had his stroke, his pride in all of our accomplishments, the love he showed in a million ways, the bravery he showed when Momma was sick, dancing with my Daddy at weddings and in our living room as he taught us all the old dances.
For every memory there are a million more. And I am so thankful for each and every one. Today is my baby girl's birthday. I remember the day she was born. I remember my Daddy's reaction. He bought her the first flowers she ever got. She wasn't but an hour old. I was hungry, it was after 1 am. I'd last eaten dinner on March 9th. My Daddy left the hospital and came back with a single rose for my baby girl and dinner for me from the local gas station. It was all that was open. I've never forgotten that. While all of our attention had shifted to our beautiful blue eyed chubby cheeked baby girl, my Daddy was worried about his worn out baby girl.
I don't know that I feel strong enough to move forward yet, but life can't wait for my participation any longer. And I'm sure that my Daddy is probably getting tired of sending so many cardinals to let us know he's near.
My sweet 11 year old Grand daughter called me on my drive to Arkansas that horrible day. She's walked in my shoes already. Her sweet voice telling me how tragic it was and that it needed a phone call not a text was exactly the salve I needed at that point. She's right. She reminded me that now my Daddy was with me all the time, not just sometimes. And that I could talk to him whenever I wanted.
She and I have an ice cream date when she gets home from spring break. I took her out for ice cream when she needed some love after losing her Daddy. She said we need to go out together when she's home.
So much of this week is bluring. There are beautiful flowers and plants, stacks of cards, hurting hearts and bitter words and tears. As I move into week two of learning this new way of life, I worry about my Momma, after all she lost her best friend and love of a life time. I worry for my sisters, we will each grieve and mourn in our own ways, and I fear for the damage it may cause. And I worry for my sweet Hubs, he lost a dear friend.
I pray that Daddy keeps sending Cardinals and that God takes care of our precious Daddy.
After all... our Hero is home with him now.
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