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Just got done visiting Dad’s gravesite…again. Mark and the kids and I went up yesterday too. We’ve had such a lot of rain (excess of 6 inches this past few days) that I worried the dirt would be swept away or sunken in. Everything was as should be though. A little yucca plant is growing behing Dad’s stone. I think we’ll let it go there. See if it grows. I remember sticking a little green seed pod there quite some time ago. I wonder if he would be mad. Anyway, Mom and I got everything decorated and we went to Arapahoe and Holbrook and decorated graves there too. The weather was hot but nice. I can’t believe it’s been almost a year. I know I keep saying that but it’s true. The whole last year Dad was sick seems like a dream…another world entirely. I think I’ve changed a lot since then. I’m someone new…someone I don’t really know. I can’t explain it and I don’t know if it’s even relative to what happened when Dad was sick. I just know it’s true.
Last year at this time we were all waiting.
For the shoe to drop. The final shoe. Dad was so sick. He was in the final throes. Everyday another slipping away of something. The body betrays you, the mind. The importance of “things” becomes ridiculous in proportion to the importance of moments.
snapshot: Dad, in a wheelchair in the cool early morning air, a coffee cup beside him, a cigarette in his mouth. He liked to listen to the birds, enjoy a coffee and smoke in the morning.
snapshot: Dad sitting in my little orange bug as we went for a ride through town, to our house, where he gazed at the gaily decorated driveway where we were holding my daughters graduation party. He would spend the night at home, with my Uncle “babysitting” so my Mom could attend the graduation and a few minutes of the reception.
snapshot: Mark carrying Dad and placing him into our vehicle so we could take him to the hospital for a “treatment”.
snapshot: Dad, gone, quiet, still in the hospital bed, my mothers face, stricken, Dad is gone