And then it was three

years of missing him.  

I do miss him quite a lot.  Not feeling very profound about it all.  

Just missing him.

Lobster, Butter, Big Grin

Professor Plum gave a(n) HISTORICAL lecture in the Study with a Candlestick

There are so many great historical mysteries.  In fact, my selection for the SHELF challenge is set between the wars.

Hmmm - I'll select an audiobook for this one.  One already loaded to my phone.

For the prompt HISTORICAL I'm going with 

March Mystery Madness challenge #4 A Beautiful Poison by Lydia Kang.

The setting is New York City (1918-1919) - just past the gilded age & right in the midst of the influenza epidemic.

It seems funny that this "historical" piece is about the year my sweet daddy was born (1919).  I guess we all become history eventually, yeah?

sash

still counting

I guess it's all about scale.  What was counted in days is now, by the attrition of time, counted in years.

I wrote about the count First Here  &  Then Here.

But yesterday wasn't 730.  It just became 2.

We've had 2 Christmases.
2 Father's Days.
2 birthdays.
2 Easters
2 Lobster Fests.  
I can't say I've handled all those 2s very well. 



Harder to rally for the holidays without Dad here to focus our energies.  
I haven't gone to Red Lobster again because, well, why would I?  
Not even one trip to the produce stand for fresh berries & golden cherry tomatoes.

After mom passed away, I carried her spirit bundle for one year.  I felt her so present during that time.  I didn't feel a need to carry a bundle for dad.  Mom was lost.  Dad was so solidly present and ready to go.  He didn't need my support while he found his way.

I didn't really think about me needing his support.

In most ways, I'm so like my mom.  Verbal, witty, crafty, plagued by depression & anxiety, way over involved at the church...

But I'm so aware right now of my dad's influence.  Singing.  Nature.  Noticing rocks.  Loving wood.  An odd connection (ok - obsession) with knives & blades.  Quiet, fierce devotion to family.  We both like rare meat, stinky cheese, & black licorice (not served together though).

I like to think I got strength from both of them.

Got.  I wish it was "still get".   But I really don't feel them close.  I used to, with mom.  Not with dad.  There is just an ache.  An emptiness.  They just keep not being here.

In a month, mom's number will be at 10. oops.  11.

Numbers are usually comforting to me.  These just seem random & meaningless.  

2 & 10.  11

Infinity & zero.

sash