It's been a while . . .

I was going to start out this post by saying it's been a while since I've written anything, but in reality I just wrote something a little over a week ago, so it really hasn't been that long. I've been putting off writing because I just can't decide what I want to write about. It would be so easy to come on here and write about all the silly things that have happened in the past week, including another hilarious conversation I had with Ella in the car, a classic "Out of the Mouths of Babes" moment. However, this past week was also fraught with emotions as we spent a trip to Philadelphia and Easter Sunday without my dad. I've felt his absence more acutely in the past few days as I've set my eyes on specific locations where I can picture him sitting as recently as a year ago, but now he's not there.

So I think I'll do both. I'll spill my guts as far as missing my dad is concerned and then I'll lighten things up with my funny Ella conversation.  It's a good one. I'll save it for the end of the post for some laughs.

I haven't written anything about Tato since my post where I described seeing signs of his presence scattered around the neighborhood as I went for a run. I'm not sure what happened, but all of a sudden I just lost the initiative to share my thoughts about him. Maybe I subconsciously decided that I wanted to keep those thoughts to myself, keep them close, not let anyone in for awhile. Maybe I felt like I was sharing too much.  Who knows?  The well ran dry. I opted to write about other stuff instead.

I can't shake these feelings I've had in the past few days though, feelings of deja vu, feelings of "Oh, last time I was here, Tato sat there.  Now he's gone.  What do I do now?" Ugh.  His absence in certain situations makes the loss more palpable.

We took several walks to Fitler's Square in Philly last week, a cute little park where we had wiled away the afternoon one sunny day last March on a park bench, all bunched up together like sardines.  It seems anytime my family goes anywhere we end up sitting all scrunched up on the same couch or the same bench, even if there are plenty of other seating options available.  The bench seemed cold and empty last week and I was glad we ended up sitting at the opposite corner of the park, sipping hot coffee and watching the kids drawing with chalk on the brick pavement.  The grand piano at my sister's mother-in-law's house also threw me for a loop. The past few times I've been there Tato would sit and play for everyone in his unique, effortless way.  I was happy when the silence was broken by my kids playing all the songs they've learned by heart. Later I sat down and played a bit, wishing I could recreate his special sound.  I found myself withdrawing a little and antisocial me started poking her head out.  I had to fight to keep her at bay.

Yesterday Jack had his first baseball game of the season. As luck would have it, it was at the same field where my dad made an appearance last May, dressed in his Harley Davidson t-shirt and sporting a neck brace, sunglasses and baseball hat, all while sitting on the seat of his rollator, front and center. I glanced over to those bleachers a few times and had another "he was there and now he's not" moment. I quickly shook it off, reminding myself that it does me absolutely no good to have these thoughts. What purpose does it serve other than to make me feel sad?

I don't think he wants us to be sad. I do believe he's here and that he's with us at every moment. It's just that it would be nice to see him and talk to him every now and then.

Life goes on. Moving forward is difficult at times, but then something comes along that eases the pain and makes the journey seem less troublesome. A classic example of that "something" was when my sister stumbled across an old re-run of "Soul Train" last weekend while we were all crammed onto her sofa in Philly watching TV. The hysterical laughter that followed erased any sadness any of us had felt earlier in the day. The highlight was when Jack and Ella got up and started dancing "Soul Train" style. I had my camcorder conveniently located within reach so now I will be able to ease my pain anytime I want.

Now for the latest contribution of "Out of the Mouths of Babes". I can't resist sharing the conversation Ella and I had the other day in the van. We had just dropped Jack off at baseball practice. I was frustrated with him because he'd forgotten to bring his retainer with him to a dentist appointment that afternoon even though I'd reminded him several times earlier in the day about it.

Me:  Ella, just remember this - boys and men don't always listen to what you say, so sometimes you have to repeat yourself.  You'll need to know this in case you ever have a boyfriend or a husband.

Ella:  I don't want a boyfriend.  I don't want to kiss a boy on the lips.

Me:  Ok, well, then just remember it for when you have a husband.

Ella:  I'm not getting married.  I'm going to be single.

Me:  Don't you want children?

Ella:  Oh, I guess so.  Great, does that mean I'll have to get a husband and kiss him on the lips? I don't want to kiss him on the lips.  Maybe I'll just be single and adopt a child.

Me:  But who will help you take care of the child?

Ella:  (long pause)  Jack will help me.

How sweet. Once again her undying adoration for her big brother shines through. Ironically one of her goals in life (her words) are to "kiss Jack on the lips in public". Jack knows all about it and goes to great lengths to make sure that it doesn't happen.

There you have it. Some sadness, but lots of happiness too. Par for the course.