Drudging through the loss

It has been just over four months. I still miss her so much. The realness of her absence is becoming more and more evident with each passing day. I usually close my bedroom door when I come home because when she was here, I could sit on my bed and talk to her, while she sat on her bed just across the hall. I still instinctively look for her; I guess a part of me hoping she is still there. She always smiled; even when she felt horrible, she smiled through her pain. There is a great lesson in that. She always loved children and knew the innocence the splendor they possess and she soaked it up like a thirsty plant in a storm. She wanted as much of that as she could get and then more. She loved every child she ever had a hand in raising and even those she didn't. I did not realize until she was gone exactly how many people she had touched: grown men, women, children, girls, boys, she loved them all. It didn't matter what size, color, gender, orientation, status, religion, or 100 other "deal-breakers" for other people. Mom loved people - period. Another lesson. It doesn't matter what particular set of circumstances occurred to put someone in their current situation. The who, how, when, where, and why is irrelevant; at the end of the day, the details don't matter. You just love them through the storm.

My dad has been gone now for 23 months. When I close my eyes, I still replay the vivid memories of us sitting around playing cards or board games as a family. Both of my parents were fierce card players and my parents had been playing as a team for so many years that anyone who dared to challenge the duo was doomed. When they were teaching my sister and I to play, we would have to divide them up and have them on separate teams for either of us to ever have a chance. Which is funny if any of you knew my grandmother (my dad's mother). She was avidly against cards and would not even allow us to play solitaire in her house. I guess it was my father's "silent rebellion" to learn to be such a good canasta player. My parents use to have difficult discussions over the dinner table as a family and they gave us life advice over cards. I didn't know it at the time. I still laugh though every time I think of my father giving my husband Johnny advice, "Son you can either be right or you can be happy". Daddy never was the type to say much, but what he did take the time to say, he made it count. Therein another lesson.

I miss the crisp fall nights gathered around a campfire roasting marshmallows at Walter and Juretta's house. Dad didn't want to be the center of attention very much, but when he did, he jumped in with both feet. I remember listening to him tell corny jokes and stories that seemed to go on forever but I wish so much I could hear his voice again and laugh at the same joke that I had heard 100 times one more time.