#oy...

Shiloh found her favorite ball and bounded to me with exuberant energy. I told her I didn’t feel like playing. I didn’t feel like doing anything except hiding under the covers and cry. But I tried to keep busy.

She didn’t give up and brought the ball to me several times. Maybe she knew playing with her would take my mind off my dad’s absence. Who am I kidding? I will never not notice my daddy is no longer with us. But there has to be some way to get around this feeling of despair. How is Mommy doing it? I took some cues from her and played with Shiloh. I didn’t feel better afterward, but at least for a few moments I thought of something else. Maybe that’s what she does. Constantly putting other things in mind until she can live with the feelings?

When Mommy got home, she started on dinner. I suppose I could have cooked so she wouldn’t have to, but I just wasn’t in the right head space to consider her needs. Does that make me a bad person?

She sang and danced to a silent beat while enthusiastically chopping onions like she were on a drum line. Heh, onions. We didn’t exactly need those right now. I watched her, trying to figure out how she could be so normal right now. I told her jokingly I thought there was something wrong with her. She stopped chopping onions and came across the counter to respond. She said she’d been trying to prepare for this day for many weeks. During that time, she spent as much time with him as possible and got everything she ever wanted to say out because, when his time came, she didn’t want to have any regrets. 

During the last part of his life, she got to know him very well and he wouldn’t want us to be sad and mopey. I thought about it, and I suppose she’s right. My dad was good for a hug, but he wasn’t the cry on the shoulder type. He certainly didn’t like to be the center of attention. Mommy told me to have a moment with his urn. “Remember what he taught you,” she said. “Think about how you can honor his memory.”