13th

 Normal Day  {Let me be aware of the treasure you are....}
It's been two years.
It's weird.
It's... easier.
It's....acceptance.
It's ignoring every Father's Day ad I hear, and quickly turning the channel/radio dial.
It's...thanking God that even though those were the last times with my dad, that I am
not in 'that place' right now.
It's like that poem.

When you return in thought to that time, as rain spills down outside, the weather making itself known, you wall up inside.
You time travel briefly.
Then you come back, you drink coffee, stop the daydreams, the might-have-beens, curse your own naivete, curse at how much growing up you have to do; it was not really my choice, but I did it.
There is no course on how to get to a lawyer and throw a will together, how to stave off creditors the morning of the funeral for your father, a funeral you somehow planned, with your mother and sister, two months earlier.
I don't recall an English class that ever asked me to write a eulogy, or what to say to a funeral home after they've lost a treasured item.
That you have to file tax returns for the dead, that the bank accounts have to be closed, that you will still be getting mail for your deceased father for many months. That selling the house will be the only viable option.
That even though you never wanted to be that 'traditional' bride, you will want to be that bride even
less now, with no dad to take you down the aisle, no first dance, none of those family photos.

I started writing this over a month ago, and went nowhere with it.
Just posting this as a stop gap while I try to recall all those wonderful blog entries I write half-asleep while I lie in bed at night....

Happy Summer. It's going by so so fast.