My cell phone rings. It says "Dad" is calling me.
This has happened repeatedly over the past few weeks.
For less than a split second I have an energized, excited feeling of getting to talk to my dad and then reality quickly sinks in and I realize I will never have a phone conversation with him again.
I've been using my husband's old cell, so when his parents call my phone it comes up as "Dad."
It's a weird emotional state these days. It's still sadness, mixed with a constant mantra of "suck it up." I cried heavy and hard into an armful of his suits that we donated to goodwill a couple of weeks ago. I've been packing up and parting with his stuff for months now . . . but I couldn't stop hugging the armful as if I were hugging him.
And now the rocking chair that they gave Kaitlynn, that he so diligently fixed after it broke two years ago, is once again broken - this time beyond repair. He was so proud of himself for fixing it, but warned that it wasn't going to last long. The kids have been hard on that chair. It's incredibly broken. Yet I haven't parted with it yet. I took pictures of the areas that he fixed . . .knowing that it's one of the last "projects" he did for me. What in the world will I ever do with those pictures? Got me. But for some reason I need them if I'm ever going to be able to let go of the actual object.
Like I said. Weird emotional state.
It's a good sign that I recognize the weirdness, though, right?
