Month Four

We are going into month four now. Four months living in a world without you in it. I wouldn’t really say I was a daddy’s girl. We didn’t even often see eye to eye. I disagreed with many of your choices and you disagreed with a lot of mine. But we always respected each other. And loved each other, even if we didn’t ever really say it. We knew.

I never wanted life to go on. I felt like the world would never be the same without you in it. I guess it’s not the same and I guess life really does go on. Here we are. I’m living proof.

I went to your grave today. It looks lonely. Your headstone still hasn’t arrived. The flimsy, temporary paper place card doesn’t look like something you would have liked. It looks cheap and disposable. You were never one for cheap or disposable. It has your name spelled out on it. Black and white and Courier New..and the day you were born and the day you died. Your life in 25 characters. There’s a little bit of grass on the ground where you are buried. Life that wasn’t there the day they put you in the ground. I left some fake flowers in a cheap plastic vase while we wait for the permanent one to come in. I don’t even know if you liked flowers. I know you liked plants and veggies and hummingbirds, but I don’t know if you liked flowers. I doubt you would have liked fake and plastic. But I guess you can’t really complain. I put a hummingbird feeder out today, just like you would have done. And I cooked up some squash, with extra bacon.

I told you I’d take care of mom. I don’t think I am doing a very good job. Mom is still taking care of me. It is hard to flip those roles. I did have a birthday party for her. I think she liked it. I can imagine it is hard for her. Her first birthday without you. So many firsts without you. But I guess that’s how it goes, and soon there will be seconds without you.

It’s spring time. Signs of new life everywhere. You would be about to plant your tomatoes. April 15, that’s the date of the last frost here. Hopefully I can get some going and maybe we will even have some by the 4th of July. Tomatoes by the 4th, that’s always the goal. Mom doesn’t want to plant anything at your house. She is sad that people are mowing the lawns and planting their gardens. It reminds her too much of you.

We talk about you a lot. How it just wasn’t fair that you didn’t even know what was going to happen to you. That everyone knew that you were going to die except for you. Our little dirty secret I guess. I don’t know. I am pretty sure that somehow you knew. At least in the back of your mind you knew. I hope you did anyway. I hope you knew.