big hole

I am so surprised by this grief process. It hits in such waves and it’s harder than I ever imagined.  I still can’t wrap my mind around Dad being GONE.  Just gone.  He was here, and so much a part of things, every day normal things.  And now the rest of my world is the same old normal, but he isn’t here. Yet I expect that he’ll pop around the corner and say “hellllo.”

Bill was home last weekend, and we had a nice day on Mother’s day.  We spent the day at Mom and Dad’s (I am consciously making sure that I still call it mom and dad’s).  It was a nice day, a family day with everybody else there.  The kind of day that Dad would love.  I had a really hard time that day. There was such a big missing hole. It was the kind of day where Dad would’ve been out saddling a horse for the kids, or chuckling as he watched Madysen playing basketball against her 6’5” brothers. He would’ve gotten a kick out of the kids “helping” mom plant her garden, with little Ben not wanting his bare feet in the dirt. Bill spent time in the garage, sorting Dad’s tools because he promised Dad that he would.  Tools that were Dad’s, and my Grandpa Hob’s. I’m sure that it wasn’t the easiest task for Bill.

 It’s the little things sometimes that really knock me for a loop.  Things like seeing the kind of shoes that he wore, that he called his “go fasts.”  Or taking a blood pressure on a patient with a shirt like his.  Or thinking about trading cars and not being able to just call him and say, what do you think?  And he would say, "put a pencil to paper, do the math."  Seeing Dad’s towing hitch and ball on Jordan’s SUV.  It’s cool, and it means something to Jordan, and I love that.  And yet…Dad should still be here.  And healthy.  And with us.  With his hitch on his Ford pickup pulling a hay wagon. For at least another twenty years. 

We are still a family, and we will be ok, eventually.  Dad would want us to be okay. But it is sure hard when the foundation of your family gets taken away.