Last summer smelled different. I wish I had words to make it more real for you, but that's what I've got. The sun was brighter, too and it was streaming through my kitchen window on Saturday morning as I ran to get the phone. "Carrie". It was my mom and by the tone of her voice, I knew something was wrong. "I'm so sorry". I already knew it was about daddy because he hadn't returned any of my phone calls. Craig and Riley were camping, Nathan and Lauren were playing, my brand new baby was sleeping...what could I do?The phone calls started right away. The police: can we search the house? The funeral home: Let's chat. The friends. The family. What do you say? And the questions. Where is he? What is he wearing? Who saw him last? What was he doing? What would dad think? I want to talk to my daddy!
We had been planning a most excellent trip to Minnesota, so we just adjusted course and headed south. We arrived Monday morning and I drove by his house to see his rocking chair rocking on the porch. He kept telling me, "I'm sorry babe". And I knew he meant it. Plans. Plans. Make some plans. Find his bag with his jeans and his Pepsi and his coffee. I never could return those jeans...even though I had the receipt. The gun he bought Craig sat in a box waiting to be mailed. He was making plans, too. Where to be buried? Who to invite? What to keep in the house? Bills? And the car? What would dad say? I want to talk to my daddy!!
And so, a whole year goes by in the blink of an eye. And you remember. Things he said. Things he did. And the pictures! Oh the pictures! Remember the time we.....? And all the new things you want to show him and tell him. Look at Maren! What would dad say? I want to talk to my daddy!!
And I do. Everyday. "Daddy, did you see these boysenberries?" "Look at those kids!" "I'm sorry too, Daddy". "Help me run this dumb marathon because I HATE running."
I think you're watching. I hope you are. I wish you were here. Just so you could shake your head at me or call me Godzilla or to tell me to be nice to my mom or tell me I talk on the cell phone too much or make fun of me for going to Sonic Happy Hour. The kids miss you. Lauren is sad you "ate smoke and alcohol". I bet you'd think I told her to say that...but I didn't! But I am telling them all kinds of great things about you...so they'll already know you when they see you again!
I love you Daddy. And I miss you every day.
7 comments:
I miss him, too sweetie. You just have a better way of saying it.
And the kids will know him. What a joyful time that will be when we see him again.
Way to have me bawling in front of the computer Carrie!! I know he's watching out for you. Thanks for sharing a tender moment with us, it helps me appreciate all those people I love and don't tell often enough.
I am so sorry. I can't imagine how hard it would be to lose one of my parents. Your brave to post this, and even braver to run a marathon. Good luck.
p.s. I love the pictures!
Carrie--what a thoughtful post. I miss those days gone by. I so loved those pictures you posted too! You're making him proud Carrie. And those cute kids of yours are too.
Wow, it's hitting closer to home, now that my Mom has been diagnosed with Ovarian cancer. it sure is hard.
This made me cry(and I don't even lnow you)! I hope that as time passes it will be less painful for you. The Lord will provide comfort.
I love the old pictures, gotta go find some tissue.
So here I am bored in a wire room crying all over again. I now know how you felt--sorta--last month in dad's cellar. I think I miss him a little more today but I can't pinpoint why. I'm just blessed to have you to show me how to love my family.
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