A little bit lost

When I first started this blog- a million years ago- I thought it would be this place for the comings and goings of our life. Little did I know that it would see us through so much and also so little. 

Sometimes I start to write and nothing worth writing comes out. When I look back at my blog- I see so many started drafts that sometimes I go back and read them. Today was no different. I started writing with the idea that I would talk more about my father. Instead I am finding myself thinking about all the things that have just been on hold for the past 2+ weeks.

Two weeks (17 days to be exact) my world seemed to just come to a screeching halt. All of my attention and focus shifted to my father and making the end of his life what he would want it to be. In a breath- that was over. The focus then shifted to - "how can I help my mom?" I am a fixer by nature- I am not super great with words. I make uncomfortable situations lighter by joking and being sarcastic. It is really hard for me to be serious- shocking I know.  After his services and seeing some family the quiet drive to the airport is when reality started to sink in. This alternate reality where time stood still was coming to an end and I was heading back home to "normal." What would this look like?

Getting back to "normal" after a death like this is hard. Mornings feel like they arrive faster than normal and the day drags on. Planning out things like meals and chores seems redundant and un-inspiring. I still want to just scream and hit the pause button. It doesn't feel like everything should be "normal" because such a large portion of my existence is gone. Watching a simple Disney movie with my kids brings me to tears- because I have so many memories watching them with my dad. Driving to the mountains with my family took my breath away because my dad will never see this beauty. It isn't at all normal.

I am not one to sensationalize my father. He was not perfect. He was not a saint. He was however the only father I had. He loved his family the best way he was capable of. I think he lived a large portion of his life with regrets but lived vicariously through the magic he saw in his grandchildren's' eyes. The loss of my father is something we have been expecting for years. That fact doesn't make this easier. 

Right now each morning I am trying to decide- what will today be like? The answer is usually found throughout the day and is often still an "I don't know."

Cheers