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.