My dad's birthday is today and I miss him more today than I did a month ago. I think a part of me has been waiting for him to come back all this time. But, he's not coming. Ever. This is very hard for me to accept, maybe impossible even.
I went to his grave the other day when I was in Hope and it was awful. How could he be in the ground? Yes, I know that he is actually in heaven, but I want him here with us. I miss talking to him. I miss him calling me from the car port and asking if he can come over. I miss having coffee with him at my kitchen table. I miss his practical help. This past week, our dishwasher broke and my first instinct was to call my dad. But I couldn't.
I see his handiwork all over my house: my renovated kitchen and bathroom, our deck, the hand rail for the staircase. In fact, his fingerprints are all over my house, my siblings' houses, our place in Hope and everywhere else that he frequented. It's comforting and profoundly sad at the same time.
Death really really sucks. No, that is not a beautifully crafted sentence but it's the truth. Whoever said that grief gets easier totally lied.
