Missing Dad

It's been just over two months since Dad died. This week was tough for me. I found myself thinking of him often, wondering if I've done him justice in my grieving. I've re-lived every moment of those last days of his life over and over and over again in my head. I don't want them to go away. Ever.

Did I show enough love, care, appreciation? Was I tender enough? Was I patient enough? Could I have sat next to his side more? Should I have done anything differently?

I find myself trying to remember his smell or his voice. A joke he used to tell.  I wish I could sit by his side again in front of the TV. I wish I could find more photos of me and him.

Sometimes I wake in the dead of night and he is the one on my mind. That's good, I believe. I don't wish away the lack of sleep. Instead I breathe deeply the closeness that I feel to him during those dark, quiet hours and wish there were more.

A hard part about grieving? I'm not where he was in the day by day activities. I'm on the other side of the world. I can't walk through the front door and be reminded that he's gone. It feels like I'm just traveling, and he is back home with mom where he should be.

I like missing Dad. It's a good thing. I am so lucky and blessed to have had this man to call my dad.