I rarely. Rarely. Ever. Go back and read any of my blogs. I can't. A huge percentage of them are extremely raw and whatever I feel at that moment. I never know what those moments may be. Or what they will draw out. And sometimes I have no desire to feel what I felt in that moment.
You would for sure not be happy with any of my current news. Mostly it's just that I'm getting old. And I'm not one bit happy about it. Had to get bifocals. Have a bad hip. A bad foot. Bad attitude. That would probably be your least favorite.
So many things died when you did. I'm pretty sure the weather did. I remember thinking that the week of your death was the most beautiful days of the year. Perfect temperature. Perfect wind. Perfect amount of sunshine. Perfect. And then it went to hell. The wind hasn't stopped blowing. The precipitation hasn't stopped falling. The temperature hasn't stopped dropping.
There have been holidays that have sucked. Birthdays that have sucked harder. Life changing moments that require acts of courage I didn't know I could possess. Life goes on. Like the wind. It blows. But it goes on.
My car is acting up. I call you to ask what it may be but you aren't there. But the phone rings with the hope that you may be. That you may get the message that I'm never going to leave. It blows. Like the wind.
I don't see you. In my dreams. Like I want to. I feel you in them. But I don't see you. I wake sometimes thinking I have been with you, but I put the dreams on rewind and you aren't there. I just feel you there. And sometimes that's enough. And sometimes that's not near enough. And it just aches. So I close my eyes and pray you come. And then? And then the wind blows. And then sometimes instead of being mad, I just whisper quietly to myself, I hear you dad. I hear you.
All we are is...
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