I'm not going to lie. The last 9 months have been some of the hardest I've ever had to face. (And if you know my life, that's saying a lot!)
First off, my dad is sitting in my closet. Seriously. I just don't know what to do with his remains, and I can't quite let go of him. The closet has always been the place I go in troubled times, to seek peace, tranquility, and catch my thoughts when they are zooming past faster than on a Nascar track. Now my dad sits there. In a black square case. I go in often, crying, yelling, hoping he can hear me, perhaps see my broken heart?
I used to think it was my precious time with God. Now it's my time with God..... and my dad. which is weird. Can he see me? Does he know or even care about the pain he has caused?
The last 9 months have been, of course, littered with thoughts of my dad. I wish I could talk to him about such and such. Why did he have to be so mean about that? How proud he would be about his grandchildren just now.
The regrets threaten to swallow the peace I have. The ashes threaten to ruin my alone time with God. I can only hope that one day soon, I'll feel like I can indeed let my dad go. Until then I hold on to the ashes that are so very dear. He never chose to say goodbye.........
