It's been a rough couple of weeks at work. All I could think during part of the day yesterday was...."I miss my dad." And I cried. Quite honestly, I wouldn't have called him for real until my emotions were under control. I have this terrible habit -- even when mad, I cry. I really despise that. Anyway. I wanted to tell him about work. He'd be a great listener. He likely wouldn't have said too much to all my rantings. He'd laugh when I made smart aleck remarks about silly decisions of others. Maybe he's make some short off hand comment that encouraged me or acknowledged the difficulty work can be at times. And he'd give me the gift of listening and feeling heard.
I miss my dad. Sometimes that makes me feel weak. I think about my cousin who lost her only son. I can't imagine even getting out of bed anymore. Or my friends whose oldest son died after battling depression and dependency. How do you go on? Or a facebook friend whose oldest son was murdered. Privately, I haven't understood why she continues to post to facebook about him. Heck - he was involved in drugs. Fortunately -- I didn't ever give voice to those judgmental thoughts. Because if your oldest son is murdered -- does your grief differ if it wasn't a savory death? How could I ever grade the worthiness of grief? Pretty smug and more than a little stupid. Oh....and what in the world is "savory death?" Again....I'm learning daily. Some lessons in humility and compassion that I clearly need to learn. I'm forever changed. But one thing remains.....I miss my dad.
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