Post 1368 - Trying To Say Goodbye

I'm back in the city, after another crazy busy weekend in the Valley.

I took Mom shopping.  I washed her dishes, thrice.  I prepared meals.  I partially cleaned out the basement.  I took her to her doctor's appointment on Friday.  I bought WD-40 clones.  I'm sure there are other things.

A couple of years ago, and even in the  Spring, I went to the gym on a regular basis.  Since Dad died, nada.  I paid the price for that folly this morning, as I woke up stiff and sore from all the clean up I did yesterday.  I like that things are looking better down there these days, but there is so much more work to be done.  Being responsible for more than one property certainly has its headaches!

I keep re-reading the phrase "Dad died".  He's been gone since May 3rd.  First of all, it seems like yesterday.  Second of all, it is still hard to accept.  I saw him at the Shannex site that Monday evening and prayed over him with everyone else.  I kissed him that final time.  I know I didn't dream his funeral.  I distinctly remember standing up in front of all those people and delivering his eulogy.  And I'll never forget the... vocal stylings of the relative who warbled "I'll  Fly Away", try as I might. 

I still expect Dad to call me, any minute now.  Is that the phone I hear now?  I kept expecting him to give me a hand this weekend in the basement, sheepishly justifying his requirement to keep rusted canisters.  Every time the water pump kicked in, I kept looking over, hoping to see him fretting over it (instead, I am).

Dad kept everything, and I inherited that trait from him.  I found old frying pans that Mom insisted be thrown out  years ago, tucked away in crevices in the basement.  They will go out on the upcoming Fall clean up, along with other things.  It's the least I owe my mother, to complete this wish, and to my father, who grew up in the Depression when times were hard and who found it so difficult to part with something, in case he might need it some day.

It's kinda the way I feel about Dad.  It's just so hard to part with him.  I know I'll need him some day.

I need him now.

Bevboy