Showing posts from June, 2010


Looking through the Canadian Tire flier is a thing I used to do with Dad, especially if he was helping me buy a tool long distance. We'd be on the phone, flipping through, him telling me if something was a piece of garbage or a really good deal. Plus, neither of us would want to miss out on any really good door crasher deals. I still carefully look through it every time it comes.

If Dad was here I would have got him this motorized inflatable chair from the Canadian Tire flier for Father's Day:

I would have. He had a floating chair very much like this one, except not motorized, that we found in a garbage can at a campsite in Melville a few summers ago. (I got some hangers.) It was EXACTLY the same chair that Ang had bought for herself and it worked awesome. He was pretty pleased with himself that he found one just like hers for free. I wouldn't have been able to resist this one, even though it isn't free from a garbage can. The picture of him driving that thing around th…


This was a rough week. This IS a rough week.

We went to a family wedding on the weekend, which was lovely, and which left me feeling about as raw as if someone had taken a cheese grater to me. Dad's brothers look a lot like him. And being around his family, as much as I love them, is very painful. (To say the least.)

And of course, we all know what's coming this Sunday. I keep seeing things I want to buy Dad for father's day. Things he would like. Or things that would be funny.

Yesterday we went to go pick a stone for Dad's grave. It bothers Mom that there isn't one yet. She says she can't go out there till it's taken care of. I understand why. She's still taking care of him. I'm not sure why, but it doesn't bother me. Maybe because I'm his daughter, not his wife. He took care of me, not the other way around. Or maybe it's because I really feel no pull to go to his grave at all. I don't feel closer to him there. And it bothers me that …

A Year Ago

This Morning
I wake up early this morning, as I have on countless mornings, to the sound of my dad upstairs getting ready to go somewhere. This weekend he's going fishing, and on Monday he's going to the hospital for another stem cell transplant.

I look at the clock. It's almost five, time for him to leave. I get out of bed and go upstairs to give him a hug goodbye. I tell him to have a good trip and a good first few weeks in the hospital because I'm not planning on seeing him till the beginning of July. I'm not looking forward to being away from him when he's sick in the hospital, I hate it. Letting go of him is a little hard this morning, but I don't make a fuss and I go back to bed.

As I lie there I realize I forgot to say "I love you". He already knows though. That's what I say to myself. He knows. My actions show it. I've said it before. There's no point in getting out of bed and going all the way back upstairs to say …