A Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.- Oscar Wilde

The title says it all.  I often think about how many times a day I think about "memories" these past few weeks.  It is always the little things that set you off.  A smell, a sound, a question whose answer derives from something that my Dad once told me. It is all there.

One of my favorite movies is Bill Murry's "Ground Hog Day."  I don't know why, but I love that movie.  Maybe it is the hopeless romantic in me but I just adore that movie.  I often reference this movie when I think about the past few weeks.  

I re-live one memory over and over again in my mind.  A friend of mine said to me the other day, "don't you sometimes wish you weren't there, but know that you had to be there.  If you weren't there you would have regretted that, too." That is 100% how I feel.  The last moments with my Dad are looped in my brain and replay quite often every day.  It is the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed.  It plays over and over.  My own personal, "Ground Hogs Day."

Tonight my daughter was sick and I took her to the E.R.  I don't know who hated going in there more, me or my daughter.  She was there the day my Dad passed away.  As we were waiting for the doctor, she asked me why there is a curtain in the room.  I told her it was so they could keep the door open and to give privacy to people in the room.  Her response about took my breath away, "like if you die?  So people can some in and see you?"  WHAT DO YOU EVEN SAY TO THAT!!!  This is two rooms from where my Dad died three weeks ago.  I calmly answered, "Do you think you are dying?  Is that why you didn't want to come here?"  She answered quietly, "Yes."  All I could do was cuddle her and reassure her she was going to go home tonight after her strep test.  I explained that Grandpa had been sick and his heart was sick and stopped beating.  She seemed to understand my simple explanation.  And fell asleep.

During my time in the E.R. I was also able to speak with a doctor that knew my Dad well.  While Mia was sleeping, I finally had the courage to ask about that day and what happened.  Again, sometimes, it may be better not to know, but I'm glad I asked and can share some of the story with my family.  I was ready to hear it.  I had a lot of questions about that day.  It doesn't make me feel better, but at least now I have those questions off my mind. 

It still doesn't seem like he's gone.  It really doesn't.  I'm not in denial and saying he isn't gone, but it makes me realize how little I saw of him in my adult life.  

On Thursday, Andrew School is honoring my Dad between games.  It will be overwhelming in so many aspects.  I think it may be happy and sad all rolled into one emotion.  It will become another memory I carry with me.

The E.R. doctor said something to me tonight that made me smile.  He is a quiet guy.  I didn't know the effect he had on my Dad until he hugged me and said, "when I think of your Dad, I remember his smile and his happiness."  Wow.  I only wish Dad knew how many people he touched with his presence.  

Photographic Memories

I love this photo for so many reasons.
1.  When in color, my Dad never wore an ensemble that matched.  It always was sweatpants/wind pants and a coaching coat of some kind.
2.  His eyes in this photo are alive.  It is totally the look I got several times.
3.  The bow.  He loved archery.  Some of my earliest memories are of going to bow shoots as a family and learning to shoot with Dad.  It is a hobby I regret not keeping up with in adulthood.  Maybe we would have spent more time together.