So we ran the Hot Chocolate 5K - what a bizarre but fun experience. Apparently the race itself was a complete disaster if you read all the ranting and raving on the organizer's Facebook page - horrific traffic resulting in a delayed start, thousands of angry runners standing in the cold waiting to run, mis-routing of 5K runners resulting in bottleneck mess and forced walking for at least 1/2 mile, narrow path, etc. etc. etc. Whatever - I ran and finished and so did my sister - woohoo!! I felt bad because apparently I ran ahead of her during the first mile and never looked back so we didn't end up running together - but we were both in our own little ipod zones and that was ok.
Remember how I said that as I crossed the finish line I would yell "God is great, beer is good and people are crazy"? Well - as I neared the finish line, that very song started playing on my ipod and I practically burst into tears as I crossed the finish. That was one of my dad's favorite songs and I had put it on my playlist thinking that I'd listen to it after the race - but because the start was delayed I ended up listening to more of my playlist than I thought I would and that song came on at the exact right moment. It's like Tato was reminding me that he was there.
Interestingly, that song has popped up periodically over the past few months at the oddest times. My mom told me that for two to three mornings in a row, her clock alarm would go off and that song would be playing. After the second or third time she decided that my Tato must be telling her it was time to get out of bed. We played that song for my dad right before he passed away - and although he was in a very deep sleep at that point I feel like maybe he heard it and is letting us know that he's still with us. My kids love that song and they sing along when I play it in the car. Yes, even the "beer is good" part - although I told them they shouldn't sing that at school or I might be getting a call.
I am being sneaky right now and while my husband is away on a business trip I decided to try to sand the cabinets in our kitchen and apply some primer to see if I can repaint the cabinets myself. John wants to hire someone to do it and at first I did too - but for some reason I feel like I need to embrace the DIY concept. Maybe it's because that's what my Tato would do - he never hired anyone to do anything. It took me a good part of the evening to sand the front of one drawer and apply the primer, but it actually looks pretty good and I'm thinking if I do a little bit every day it will eventually get done.
Grief is a funny thing and I've finally figured out what it feels like. It's like getting punched in the stomach over and over again. One minute you've been punched so hard you can barely breathe and you can't control the tears that stream down your face, but then the pain eventually subsides and you start to forget that you've been punched. Then something will happen - you hear a song, see a photo, have a flash of a memory - and you've been punched again and the cycle repeats itself. Once the pain subsides you're able to take a deep breath and move on - run 3 miles, paint a cabinet, strum a guitar, hug your kids - live life until the next punch comes along. Hopefully the punches will get lighter and more spread out as time passes. By then I should have a nice freshly painted kitchen and be able to run ten miles!
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