Drawing parallels
Most mornings when I wake up, I log on to Facebook and read it like the morning paper. It's not a habit I'm particularly proud of but I know I'm not the only one.
Yesterday was no different. I hit the snooze button a few times and somewhere around 6:40 I propped myself up on pillows, flipped on a lamp and grabbed my phone.
At the top of my timeline, Facebook wanted me to see a memory from 2 years ago. It was a photo of my niece being shown how to use a BB gun on the back porch of my step mother's house. To the left in the image is my Dad, who we didn't know then was entering his final week of life.
I've been teetering on a very tiny little ledge of emotional well-being ever since the calendar flipped it's way on over to May. My mind keeps flashing back to what life was like 2 ago-- I didn't know then that these were my final "normal" (normal was long gone by then, but things change so slowly you don't realize until you look back) days with my Daddy and as time and circumstance would come to tell, much of my paternal family. I'll see something, or smell something, and it's like this surreal movie in my mind that takes me back in time.
I remember this particular day like it was yesterday. May 3rd, 2015 was a Sunday. I was still working night shift and had to be at work at 8pm that evening and so I had slept in a bit before I made my way to see Dad He was kicked back in his recliner there on the porch, sipping tea from a mason jar through a straw. He was only 56 at the time, but looked so much older. I remember thinking at the time that it was a glimpse at what he would look like if he'd been given the chance to grow old. His hair was gone from chemo, and his eyes appeared sunken as if they'd somehow grown heavier with the weight of things. I felt like I would break him if I hugged him too tightly, but I bent down for one anyway and greeted him like usual, with a "Hey handsome", and a kiss on the cheek.
It was warm but not hot-- the perfect kind of day you wish for when you have a covered back porch. My hair was purple, and I was wearing a yellow sweater. All of my Dad's brothers were in attendance, minus one who called in from Arizona and spoke to everyone as the phone was passed around.
Dad doled out his prized antique/vintage fishing gear to his brothers and we all pretended like it was normal and we weren't scared to death. I had recently purchased an old camcorder at a thrift store and was taking random footage that I thought I would someday appreciate when the fact remains that two years later, I can't bear to actually watch any of it.
At some point, the bb gun was brought out and tin can & soda bottle targets were set up. Dad napped sporadically and we sipped sweet tea and my sister came by with Moonpie who soaked up the attention of her uncles like a sponge.
I didn't count how many kisses I planted on my dad's bald noggin that day but I wish I had given him more. Of course, it could never be enough.
Someone had ordered pizza and I snagged a slice while I listened to stories of Dad's youth, tales of trouble he and his brothers had gotten into in the Croatan forest.
I stayed until I risked being late for work at 8pm, kissed his cheek one more time and made my way to handle responsibilities. My heart stayed there on the porch, though.
I miss you every damn day, Dad. I would give anything for one more Sunday afternoon with you.
Dad relaxing and listening as his brother teaches my niece to shoot the BB gun.
Yesterday was no different. I hit the snooze button a few times and somewhere around 6:40 I propped myself up on pillows, flipped on a lamp and grabbed my phone.
At the top of my timeline, Facebook wanted me to see a memory from 2 years ago. It was a photo of my niece being shown how to use a BB gun on the back porch of my step mother's house. To the left in the image is my Dad, who we didn't know then was entering his final week of life.
I've been teetering on a very tiny little ledge of emotional well-being ever since the calendar flipped it's way on over to May. My mind keeps flashing back to what life was like 2 ago-- I didn't know then that these were my final "normal" (normal was long gone by then, but things change so slowly you don't realize until you look back) days with my Daddy and as time and circumstance would come to tell, much of my paternal family. I'll see something, or smell something, and it's like this surreal movie in my mind that takes me back in time.
I remember this particular day like it was yesterday. May 3rd, 2015 was a Sunday. I was still working night shift and had to be at work at 8pm that evening and so I had slept in a bit before I made my way to see Dad He was kicked back in his recliner there on the porch, sipping tea from a mason jar through a straw. He was only 56 at the time, but looked so much older. I remember thinking at the time that it was a glimpse at what he would look like if he'd been given the chance to grow old. His hair was gone from chemo, and his eyes appeared sunken as if they'd somehow grown heavier with the weight of things. I felt like I would break him if I hugged him too tightly, but I bent down for one anyway and greeted him like usual, with a "Hey handsome", and a kiss on the cheek.
It was warm but not hot-- the perfect kind of day you wish for when you have a covered back porch. My hair was purple, and I was wearing a yellow sweater. All of my Dad's brothers were in attendance, minus one who called in from Arizona and spoke to everyone as the phone was passed around.
Dad doled out his prized antique/vintage fishing gear to his brothers and we all pretended like it was normal and we weren't scared to death. I had recently purchased an old camcorder at a thrift store and was taking random footage that I thought I would someday appreciate when the fact remains that two years later, I can't bear to actually watch any of it.
At some point, the bb gun was brought out and tin can & soda bottle targets were set up. Dad napped sporadically and we sipped sweet tea and my sister came by with Moonpie who soaked up the attention of her uncles like a sponge.
I didn't count how many kisses I planted on my dad's bald noggin that day but I wish I had given him more. Of course, it could never be enough.
Someone had ordered pizza and I snagged a slice while I listened to stories of Dad's youth, tales of trouble he and his brothers had gotten into in the Croatan forest.
I stayed until I risked being late for work at 8pm, kissed his cheek one more time and made my way to handle responsibilities. My heart stayed there on the porch, though.
I miss you every damn day, Dad. I would give anything for one more Sunday afternoon with you.
Dad relaxing and listening as his brother teaches my niece to shoot the BB gun.
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