It’s really strange being here at my dad and Lin’s house…and he’s not here. I keep expecting to see him shuffling in to say good morning, coming to the table for lunch, grabbing a Coke from the fridge, sitting in his rocker, sneaking some cookies, or giving him a kiss goodnight.
But at the same time — and of course something I feel immensely guilty about — is that it’s almost… easier? less stressful? a sense of relief? because there was so much involved in his daily care and dealing with his anxiety.
I’ve pretty much been avoiding any serious grieving before now because we only really saw him 2-3x a year so it was mostly “out of sight out of mind” (as crass as that may sound). But being here…and the memorial service is later this morning…well, I predict I will be a hot freaking mess. Just writing this is hard.
I don’t want to adult today.
