So I have yet to post about my Dad's passing. It's a post that is coming, but I can't get it all together yet. I can situate it in my brain just yet, and life keeps rolling on, so I wanted to make sure that someday when Jett looks back and reads these posts, he can see my process of dealing with things, how I made sense of it, and maybe use these as a point of reference. That sounds morbid and I don't mean for it to at all, but I often think about the journeys and paths others go down to cope and deal with daily happenings.
Today I had some time before going to work. I needed to meet with an attorney and get some things situated and during my extra time getting ready, I had some good talks with myself. Today it hit me that three weeks prior I was so quick to get to my dad's bedside and make sure he was ready for hospice. I was so quick to make small talk and take our selfie out of tradition. I was so quick to kiss him goodbye and head back to class. But today it hit me that if I had known our time together was numbered in days, added together was less than 100 hours, I would have soaked every single one up. Class would have waited. Class should have waited. I'm thankful that it took three weeks for my human mind to register that keeping my to do list and my calendar planned to a "t" was what I chose to do instead of waiting, being still, and spending time with my Dad.
Today, I'm heartbroken. I'm kicking myself today. I'm torn to pieces for what I didn't know.
I'm so thankful that the last words I said to Daddy were I love you, see you tomorrow, and that last words he ever will say to me were Love you, too, but I would go back a thousand times to say other things. To talk through the night into the morning.
The extra time I took this morning from work gave me a chance to process and make more lists. Gave me time to busy myself with housework and life work.
That DUSTY old farm
2 days ago