A year and a half after Dad died, I still get overly emotional and cry because he's gone. I never understood the power of grief over a person's mind or how long it could envelope your thoughts. I am simply amazed that it still can render me useless at times. I cannot function properly when it takes hold of my brain.
Lately, I've had dreams about him zipping around the yard on his scooter, overseeing all the progress we've made improving his place. I don't picture him using his oxygen bottle, just his beaming smile as he would appreciate tending the garden. I miss having him tell me, "Son, I need some help..." because I would always drop what I was doing just so he could accomplish whatever he wanted to do. We were a team.
I know that some of my friends think that I should just "get over it" but they don't understand that I can't. In his last ten years, my Dad and I became best buddies. During those ten years, we formed a bond more like brothers than father and son. We respected each other and genuinely enjoyed being around each other all the time. If I went to do a job somewhere, he called daily to see how it was going and asking when I would be home. He missed me too.
In secret, I wanted to die before my parents. I knew the grief would be horrific...and it is so far. I created this blog to reflect back on times shared with him. I share this so others can understand why I loved him so much. Dad was wonderful to me and especially so in his last years. I miss you Pop!