I keep thinking this whole experience is nothing more than a dream. It just seems so unreal to think that I helped you through the dying process. It doesn’t seem like 5 months has gone by since you were diagnosed and passed. I know I haven’t been by your grave in the past two weeks, I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with mom and you know she needs me quite a bit now.
I have this thought in my mind where whatever I type on this computer about you; somehow you get it where ever you are. I know, it’s a childish thought, but isn’t it interesting to think that I can still have a conversation with you, even if it is just a conversation with you in my imagination.
I’ve done a lot since you’ve been gone. I’ve cleaned out all the closets, and sorted through your dresser and all your personal belongings. We found all of your coin stashes and mom has been rolling quarters like you wouldn’t believe. I painted the living room a nice shade of blue; the cream colored walls were a bit much for us. You would have like the blue color; it makes the carpet look darker and newer. I painted moms room a lovely shade of lavender; you wouldn’t like it, too feminine. I had all of your miscellaneous stuff that was out in back and all the limbs and straw hauled off. It looks a lot better now, and it doesn’t seem so snaky. I cleaned out your barn, and man oh man you weren’t kidding, you did have a lot of junk out there! I left everything else in there the way you had it. I don’t have the heart to move any of it. I’ve been keeping the grass cut, and I’ve been over there almost every day helping mom with something or another.
Remember those two outdoor metal chairs that you got from grandpa? I brought them home and Mike and I restored them. They look really good; they’re a light blue color with white frame. Mom has them sitting out front beneath the trees with a green glider she bought from Lowes. Don’t worry, she has been rolling quarters and buying stuff, she’s very conscientious with her budget. I have a lot of your personal stuff at my house. I took all of your wildlife calendars and chose 12 of my favorite pictures out of them and framed them. I have turned my office into a memory room for you. I have your Tilly hat hanging on the wall with a photo of you when we were fishing together this past year. I found a tomahawk you made when were little and I’ve got that hanging there up alongside the picture and hat with a shelf with your first bible and two of your bird statues and a knife you made. I also brought home all of your nature books and I have them in the office in my book case. Dad, I’m surrounded by you all the time when I’m in that room. I’m discovering that I miss you something awful and I find myself sitting in there in the recliner, grieving. You wouldn’t like that at all, I know, but I don’t think I’ve allowed myself that since you’ve been gone. So I’m working it out.
I went fishing with a friend last Friday. We went to Steven's Mill Pond. It seemed nice getting out on the river.
Thinking of you every second of every day and missing you so much.
