It’s been six months and sometimes I almost forget that you’re not somewhere traveling or enjoying that new reclining chair you bought last year. Last month was unbearable at times. Your birthday and Father’s Day both in one week.
It was the first time ever that I didn’t buy some kind of grandfather card. I cried in the card aisle when I realized that I no longer had to buy you birthday, Father’s Day, or Christmas cards or presents. We won’t have your famous chicken wings with the special barbecue sauce on Christmas dinner.
I did okay until the casket closed. I did okay until I was reminded that we had to bury you. It was like a punch in the stomach. It felt like all the air in my lungs was sucked away. You’re really gone. It was impossible to push that ache to the back of mind. I couldn’t bury those thoughts. The youngest of nine, but gone before six others.
I miss you.