I miss my Dad every day. And every day, memories of him come to mind and I swing from smiles to tears. I find it frustrating that I am grieving and yet life keeps moving forward when I need to time. I need quiet. I need rest. I need time to just cry or laugh or pour over pictures or to just BE.
If I was still painting, this is what I would paint about. I am standing still while the world spins around me in a whirl of colors, so fast I can't make anything out. I want to reach out but cannot. I'm like a top that has stopped spinning and is laying on the floor, waiting to be wound and spun again or if I cannot be wound up, I would like the rest of the world to stop moving so fast.
I find myself staring into space, lost in thought. I make myself do the ordinary tasks even though it just feels so hard and unimportant. Yet, I know that for my children, they need to see that we are OK and we can continue to live, even with this hole inside.
Tonight, Peanut asked me what he would do if I died. Poor baby. I told him that I certainly did not plan to die any time soon but he would be taken care of by Grandma, Aunt Desert Bloom, The Mrs and Biker Boy. He will not be alone. He grew very quiet after that.
The truth of the matter is that I can give him no promise of tomorrow. Only the hope that we will go live with Jesus and those who have gone before and the ones left behind will take care of each other. It's all I can promise. I wish it was more.
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