I've been reading through last January's posts because I thought I had posted about this before. Twelve years ago today, my father passed away. It still is a wrenching thing. I don't like this membership I've acquired in the dead dad's club. I remember thinking at the time that this weird nothing is right with the world feeling will never go away. And it doesn't exactly. It eases a bit, and sometimes you feel fabulous but there is a niggling feeling that something is missing all the time. When I see my fabulous girls and know how he would have been as a grandfather, or with my nephews who would have been the coolest things ever. And I kind of hate the feeling that my life is diminished some because he is gone. I can never be as cool as it was. I hate that feeling. And I don't know how to explain it.
Today, I am going to lunch with my mom to remember. Recently a causal friend of ours lost her husband after an illness. She has been spending time with my mom as she grieves. I guess the thing I want to remember most about people who are hurting like that is that even when I don't know what to do I will do something. The thought to spend some time, send a card, make a call. Even if it isn't much it will help.