Every time I spend a day canning it feels incomplete without emailing you the results of my day. When we came back from our FMH Reunion, it felt like something was missing without telling you all about who we saw and what we did. I needed you this morning to ask (again) how much canning salt do you put in Tomato Juice? I missed having you ask "What would Lillian want for her birthday?" And there's so many times when it seems I need to tell you things that I know you would have loved to hear about...
People keep asking me, "How is your dad doing?" Can someone tell me how to answer that question? I never know quite what to say, and added to that is the embarrasing fact that I haven't talked to him for....awhile. Yesterday I made myself pick up the phone and dial...his cell phone. I couldn't quite get myself to call the house.
I hadn't even realized how much I'd been avoiding calling home. See, I never called home to talk to Daddy. Oh, sure, sometimes he answered and I'd chat with him too, it's not that I mind talking to him, but I always called to talk to you, Mom. Now, you're not there, and calling home makes it painfully real. So I just didn't call - I'm not a phone person anyway, I don't call anyone! I text occasionally, and I send an email once a week, and he reads my blog....... but the truth of the matter is, I dreaded the painful reality of calling home.
They say grief comes in stages -- we make jokes about it, "Probably that's just another stage of grief!" when something wacky happens -- I suppose they're right. I'd rather have it all one time and be done but that's just not the way it works. So, here we are, Mom. Stage 6: (or is it 16? Or 60? 600?) Still Missing You.
PS. And in case Heaven has any use for blogs, Pic #1: the tomato juice I canned today. 26 jars. Free tomatoes given from Chris' Aunt. Pic #2: Lillian's "playhouse" birthday gift. Made by her daddy. Your marigolds in the foreground. Pic #3: Jennifer and Lillian's own little tea party. Set up on their own. Bonnets and all.