The G

 

 

Tomorrow is Father’s Day.  It kind of hit me like a freight train in the solar plexus yesterday afternoon.  

I knew it was coming, but kind of blurred it out.  Tomorrow will be a double whammy of misery.  My husband’s children will be seeing him and ignoring me, and I can’t even call my dad to cry about it.

This isn’t about the kids.  They have to make their own roads in life.  Maybe someday they will understand how hurtful they have been, but I can’t live for that maybe day.

Today I’m just trying to keep my head above the water line, when all I want to do is go under.

The estate sale started on Thursday.  I’m staying out of it except I have to drive over there twice a day to do the alarm.  It makes me feel massively guilty, that strangers are going through Andy’s stuff, Andy’s house.

The estate handlers are professionals.  The inside of the house looks like a showroom, with display tables of neatly organized items.  It’s just all so wrong, all so tidy.

After the sale is over, we can finally get in and get the house ready.  I’ve decided to rent it out for a while instead of selling it, that brings its own flavor of guilt.

I don’t know why I feel so guilty.  I’m not doing anything Dad wouldn’t have wanted me to do.  It’s just that it all still feels like his stuff, like he’s still here somehow.

I suppose this is natural.  There will be a whole year of occasions where it will be the first without Andy.  It’s part of the grieving process.

Today, the G is winning.

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