Saturday, November 3, 2018

11/2

Yesterday was my dad's birthday. I always anitcipate it coming. I know that I won't be able to predict how I feel when the day arrives. And then I look for signs. Signs that it's all ok. 
Yesterday was a teacher work day which meant I cleaned my house and worked hard at home, distracted by Greer saying "hold me" fifteen X 11 times. She's recovering from being sick and only wants me. It's ok. I read a post the other day about rememering to watch your babies sleep, etc. They grow so fast. So I held her a lot and while she napped, I took down fall decorations and worked on what felt like a months worth of laundry. I thought that the day felt calm, happy, easy. I didn't feel teary.
Andy got home from work early and I eventually made it to the grocery store. I can honestly say that in my adult life, girls nights out(a rarity) and solo trips to the grocery store(another rarity) give me life. 
I slowly gathered my necessities (dog food, milk- all I really came for) and waited in line behind a very old man who struggled to find his cash. I didn't mind of course, because when mom alone time hits, it can go as slow as it wants. The man finally paid and made his way out of the store. The man was so old and slow. He had a cane and shuffled. He reminded me of my Padaddy. He was trying to make his way to his car, but it seemed that his feet marched in place and his body wouldn't move forward. The cashier and I watched and commented that the precious old man needed an automated buggy. I made my way out of the store and felt a pull to ask him if I could assist to which he obliged. 
My sign. I don't know why. 
I walked precious Charles Wilson to his truck as he held my buggy until we got to his truck in which he held on to the side and walked around. I felt the urge to hug him and tell him I loved him. I got in my car and thanked God. 
My forever fear with my dad was that he lost his mind because he didn't understand that he was loved. I know that I am probably wrong, but I have worried over this for years, even before. If my dad knew he was loved by his Creator, his Father in Heaven, maybe it would cover the mental illness. Maybe it would cover all of the bad. I still pray that in death he would know that my God loved him. 
So yesterday, I passed my love on to Charles Wilson. I teared up in my car. I thought about what I wouldn't give to have walked my frail, old dad to his car. What I wouldn't give to hug him. You can't hug away a mental illness, but Lord knows, if I could, I would die trying. 





(My Grandma Ruth with my girls)

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