When someone dies, after the initial grief, when you go back to your daily life and new problems arise and are solved and things just keep going you don't always remember what you've lost. And then...
Lucas asked me for a peanut butter and pickle sandwich the other day. Something I've never eaten and don't know where he got the idea for. And I thought to myself, Dad will get a kick out of that. He loves those and it's practically the only meal he ever makes for himself.
But he won't. And he doesn't. And he's gone.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
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It sucks, it really does. But after some time, those sad moments will turn into opportunities to embrace your memories and say hi to your dad for a minute.
ReplyDeleteMy grandma always ate peanut butter-pickle-mayo sandwiches. I have spent many years terrified of the concoction, but after she died, I tried one. It wasn't bad at all.
Damnit. Smiling and sniffling at the same time. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteHow ironic -- today we made and ate tuna sandwiches in memoriam of a loved one. Aren't those sneaky-uppy memories the worst?
ReplyDeleteI wish I could say that after a while you stop getting blindsided like that, but after 14 years it still happens to me. I kind of enjoy it now, though. It's nice to be unexpectedly reminded every now and again. So in that way, it does get better.
ReplyDeleteHugs to you and your kids - and I'm hoping I'll get to give them to you for real in July!
I had my sad sandwich moment yesterday when I ate port wine cheese.
ReplyDeleteMy rocking Nana LOVED port wine cheese!
Still, this makes me smile but feel sad at the same time.
big hug, just like Elly said.
I left a really awesome comment here yesterday but then blogger ate it.
ReplyDeleteFuck. I did a whole post here yesterday and blogger ate it. But never fear. I saw your awesome comment before it got ate up. It had to do with cheese, right?
ReplyDeleteWell, shit.
ReplyDeleteKickass title, though.
ReplyDeleteI used to worry that the wound would heal and I would forget. I was so afraid of forgetting. For months I would dream, and he would appear, but never be able to speak.
ReplyDeleteIt's been 14 years. The scar is still there, and thankfully I haven't forgotten. When he appeared in my dream on Saturday night, he pissed me off pretty good. Oddly, I find that comforting.
My Dad's been gone for 8 years. I can still hear his laugh perfectly.
ReplyDelete