The Food Director...

Dad! I did it! I'm officially now the Food Day Director at Blick. Well not all of Blick. And not even all of Central. (Which is the name of my location.) Just my Department. Oh and Retail Purchasing. I know you wanted me to be the Vice President. But this will suffice. 

Oh. And I should mention I gave myself the title! You told people I was the VP, so why shouldn't I tell them I'm the Food Director! The best part is you would love it! Except you are so much like my supervisor it's not even funny. He's picky about his food too! I'm guessing I may never make anything he truly "loves." Long story short Dad. I hang up a sign and we all sign up to bring our favorite food on a certain day. It's a lot of responsibility. But I think I got this.

Why, just tonight I made your favorite mushroom steak to cook in the crock we borrowed from Sister, for supper tomorrow night. 

Most days I'm ok. Until I get home. And have to think. Some moments I miss you so bad I can't breathe. Like someone or something is sitting on my chest. It's awful. 

We sold the contents of your house Saturday. I'm sorry. And your truck. And my God I'm so sorry about that. I wish I could've kept it but actually it's probably best I didn't. 

I hope you are doing well where you are. I am. Most days. I think they like me at work. Pretty sure of it. And I love it there. Little do they know of the artist they actually hired. I forgot about her too. Until I had to clean out and pack your office a few weeks ago. I wasn't too damn bad. Thank you for keeping all that stuff. I personally had to get rid of it. I need to start over. Maybe all over. It was just too hard to see it. Not because you kept them all, just because it was a girl I don't remember or even know anymore. And frankly? Sister was too busy to stop me from tossing it all. I will paint and draw again. I promise. Just not ready yet. For now this is my canvas. 

I stopped to see Cindy tonight after work. Unfortunately to run into some guys that hadn't seen me since you passed. They spoke highly of you. Which makes me miss you more. 

I wish I could see you. I wish you would walk into the bar and say "have you met my middle child? Her name is Tiffany. She's the Vice President of Dick Blick." And I would roll my eyes. And say damnit Dad. Not the VP. Just the Food Director. 

My Wish...

Hi Dad. 

Crazy few weeks. I can't believe it's almost been two months since you left. I can say left because that's what you did. You just. Left. So many people have said Tiffany you are so lucky. That he didn't suffer. That he didn't struggle. I suppose I am lucky. Although lucky is not the first word that comes to mind when someone exists stage left. 

I think of all of the things you could have done for us BEFORE you left but there really isn't a before is there? It's now. Today. Right here. 

I got to take your truck tonight to the auction house.Dave's Autobody made it look brand new. I couldn't even smell you. Not a speck of you was left. Which probably was a blessing. But I'm driving to Abingdon, radio on 94.9, humming to random tune on the radio...and I look down and realize I'm holding the steering wheel exactly like you did.  Your left hand. One hand only. And I smile and I say I know Dad. I will get her there. I promise. Otherwise Sister will kill me. 

Someone I care about deeply made fun of my blog a few weeks back. I am not even sure you knew I had one or that your daughter could write. I just remember thinking...pound sand...person who is making fun of it. Actually more like kiss my fat ass. Don't read it idiot. It's not rocket science. As you used to say, Life's a Bitch...and then you die. 

I parked your truck tonight as Rascal Flatts came on...the song...My Wish. I know you had lots of wishes for me Dad. And I know if no one else heard them, I Did. I heard you loud and clear. And I promise you that WE are going to have the best year ever. 

There are moments I cannot believe you are gone. There are moments I cannot believe I am here. There are moments I just wish I could get back. 

My Wish for you? Always and forever that you found your Peace. 

Dinner with Jesus...

Hi Dad. 

How are things? Doesn't sound like you're "there" yet. You keep showing up at Brothers poker table. And Sisters work today! Actually I think it's funny. They are not finding it nearly as funny as I am. 

I'm sorry about the house. I'm sorry about a lot of things but mostly the house right now. It's funny. When you pack things up. A funny thing happens to you. Not funny. Strange. 

Yes. That's how I wanted to describe it. Strange. We had never seen it empty. When you and Mom moved us there you had done all the moving before we got there. We had never seen it. Empty. 

Brother was outside cleaning out the garage. Sister and I did one more walk through to make sure we got everything. I walked into my old room and I heard laughter. Mine and Sisters. When we were little. And played tug of war across our twin beds. Always with my pajamas. I heard giggling. And I cried. What we didn't know then. I'm glad we didn't. 

Anyway. The Beans? I KNOW. They need to come out. If you weren't at Jarod's poker table you could have a chat with Mother Nature. You and her never really did get along though. So I'm sure you aren't real high on her list of appointments. Sorry. Just speaking the truth. We are working on it. I promise. Sister would rather have her toes in the sand. You know this Dad. 

Anyway. I went to Sisters last night for dinner and the Bears game. She had no idea they were playing the Packers. Eye yie yie. Anyway. We sat down to dinner while Cooter was on the phone. Earlier though Sister put a plate and service down at one chair. I thought, damn David is spoiled. Then I thought. Damn. She's setting a place for Dad. No idea why. You would not have enjoyed our dinner of chicken cordon bleu tortellini. You would've eaten it and said "it's alright. Not something I would want to eat every day." And we would say, ok, well you didn't have to cook. 

Cooter comes out rambling about who knows what, and I say here Sister got your plate out. And she looks me dead in the eye and says, "it's for Jesus."  I say excuse me? "Jesus. It's for Jesus." I say, "is he here?" She says, "you always set a place for Jesus." I say, "Sister. For real. Is he here?" It was a little freaky. She just rolled her eyes at me. 

A few minutes later Cooter comes up and grabs the plate. Jesus' plate. I thought for sure Sister was going to come up out of her chair. But she didn't. She just simply said "that was Jesus' plate." And Cooter said, "who?" And she just shook her head and said "Jesus. You were probably talking to him on the phone only to you he probably pronounced it "hey Seuss."  "He said, no Dee Dee. His name was David, he pronounced it as David."

Dad? I'm not sure if Jesus ever did get dinner last night. Or if you've seen him yet. But please tell him Sister tried to serve him last night. 

I miss you. And love you. 

Sis