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 his body is down there and we have to pick a headstone to somehow try to say, "He was here. He mattered." He matters.

And summer is looming in front of me. I've never felt this way about a summer before. But this summer was supposed to be the summer when we could start to put some of the pain and the worry behind us. Instead I find myself running out of things to remember about his last year with us. This past weekend marked his last big fishing trip. Soon it will be October and he'll have been gone a whole year and I will be all out of "a year agoes". Which sucks, in a way I'm not sure how to explain, other than to say what I've said before. I feel like I'm moving away from him, from that part of my life when he was here with us and the world was a place I liked a lot better.

Now the world is a place with no Dad for my boys to sit with at family gatherings, and no not-so-subtle hints about what he wants for Father's Day, and no looking forward to spending summer vacation all together, and soon a headstone in a graveyard with his name on it.

Of course, it's a place with lots of things I love in it still. Obviously, I shouldn't define the world by the things that aren't in it anymore. That doesn't make sense. But some weeks, like this one, I have a hard time seeing past all the empty spaces. (That doesn't make sense either. Empty spaces shouldn't be so hard to see through.)


  1. Empty spaces are the hardest to see through. Really they are. I have family that I love and friends that I love like family. I have family that loves me. I have friends that love me like family. But it doesn't fill the hole of the family that doesn't seem to love me anymore. Maybe it's not death that separates us, but it might as well be.
    So, yes...empty spaces are to me like big huge looming mountains that get in the way and make it hard to see the things I(we) should be looking at.

  2. Totally know how you feel. It's hard being in a world without a dad. Without a grandpa for our kids, a husband for out moms.
    Hoping and praying today goes ok for you.

  3. this is hard to read. it opens up a big empty hole. i can feel this hole today. i guess we all carry a bit of unseen pain. you express it well. sk


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