Its Been Awhile

It has been awhile since I've blogged. I'll definitely be posting about Christmas later, but I feel like just writing today. I re-read some emails from Dad; I find it comforting. He is in my thoughts every day-and will be for the rest of my life. At times it seems to weigh on me more. I have moments where I literally cannot breathe and suddenly feel suffocated and overwhelmed by the reality of it. Little things remind me of how I miss him. Emailing back and forth throughout the work day, certain ways he would answer the phone, questions I want to ask him that I can't...I feel everything has been a whirlwind still. Mom put it best when she said "it's like we're finally thawing out from the shock."


Death isn't a subject people want to deal with-so I've found they just don't bring up the subject with you. I think they want to know how we are doing, but they are uncomfortable talking about it. I'll wake up at night sometimes in a cold sweat about the reality of dying. At times it terrifies me. It shouldn't-lets be honest, I know where I'm going when I die. I have a relationship with Jesus Christ that answers that question for me. But I hate the unknown. What are we going to do in Heaven? How do I really get there? Who's going to meet me there? I get a little freaked out. I joked with Mom one day that I wanted a "check-in" buddy when I get to Heaven. Someone to show me around and tell me what I'm going to do all day.

I can close my eyes and still picture Dad sitting at his desk in the office as I drove up into their driveway. My biggest fear that plagues me is the fear of not being able to picture his face when I close my eyes. I'm afraid I'll have to struggle to picture him clearly in my mind. So far this has not happened, and as silly as it may be, it is something I pray about. I do not want to forget his face.

I know I was cherished as his daughter, and I hope he knew how much I adore him. I felt spoiled at times. He would pick me up usually once a week from work at Humboldt Title and we'd go to lunch. Usually Porter Street BBQ-those of you who know me well, know that. We would talk business or home improvement or finances. On a particular Valentine's Day, when I especially felt very single (ironically a few weeks before I met Eric), I came home from work and found a card and flowers waiting for me from him. Even as a little girl, whenever Mom would get roses or flowers, there was always one flower waiting for me. This memory grows sweeter to me every time I think of it.

As ridiculous as this one might sound, my most favorite thing to do with Dad would be to go to work with him. And we did some disgusting jobs. I value the fact that I was given the same job the boys were to do (minus the one time Dad refused to let me do something-it was at the Loleta Ranch and it involved an old unplugged refrigerator and some ripe smelling rotting fish). Dad encouraged me that I could do any job that anyone else did; it didn't matter I was a girl. The best was when I took the day off of school for "Go to Work with Your Dad Day." I think the first time I went was when he owned the mill. I didn't work at the mill at that point yet, but I did sit in his truck and answer his car phone and take notes for him. That was my usual task as we drove around, even when I was in college. He would pull out his work binder, and I'd list off his to-do list. He'd make phone calls, I'd write phone numbers down or appointments, and cross stuff off his list.

I miss him very much.