Day to day

The melt has begun. It got up to 40°F on Saturday. I wanted it to feel warm, but there were clouds and high winds. Zip up that coat! We now have lake front property again.

The pond is forming in the field as the snow melts

A few weeks ago when the winds were blowing at 50 mph, the plastic on the polyhouse ripped. The 40 mph winds this weekend finished the job. Terry has been working to clear the piled-up ice around the bottom away to he can replace the cover.

The polyhouse roof blown to piece in the wind

As for the grieving, it comes and goes. I have gotten lots of sympathy cards from friends and coworkers. Hilda, not having coworkers, is getting cards from friends. Sometimes they make me cry; sometimes they don’t. Depends on the mood.

Last week Terry and I had time to watch a movie in the evening. I picked one of the Hallmark Christmas films that we hadn’t had time to watch during the actual season. I was in the mood for some light-hearted entertainment. Alas, once the movie got started, it occurred to me that we had taped it during the Before Time, when my family was whole, and we were watching it in the After Time, when Christmases would never be the same. I had to have a moment. I sent Jane a text that included a tearful emoji.

“Holidays are hard the first year,” Jane responded.

So many details to take care of. Sometimes I’m fine. Sometimes I’m not. I was unemotional through the phone call to take his cell phone off the family plan. Hilda and I went to the bank Monday to take Dad’s name off the accounts, straighten out his credit card bill (which had gotten lost somewhere), and cancel his debit card. I was fine until our favorite banker, Adriana, stopped by to express her sympathy. Then I got all choked up again.

People have been so kind during this time. “I’m so sorry to hear about your dad.” “I’m sorry for your loss.” “Let us know if there’s anything we can do.” “It’s so hard to lose a parent.”

The words that I have found most comforting came from Kate, who lost her mother much too young. Her mom was only a little older than I am now when she died of a brain tumor a few years ago. So sad. I am lucky to have had my father nearly 60 years. Kate had her mom half that time. On our way to class one day, Kate said, “Every day will suck a little less.”

I remind myself of that constantly. It ought to be on a T-shirt. Or a sympathy card. Every day will suck a little less.

And we carry on.