Marking time and celebrating the good moments

Yesterday marked 10 months since we lost my father. Last summer, in the direct aftermath of his death, I told myself that I could not imagine anything worse than the gut wrenching nausea that followed his sudden death. I thought the grief would abate and I would begin to feel normal, sort of like a good dose of ibuprofen does for menstrual cramps. But I was wrong. The last six weeks or so have been so grueling. On the mornings when I didn’t take Devon with me to work, I would leave my make up off, get in the car and sob and scream for the better part of the 40 minute commute. When I got to the parking lot I would put a handful of snow on my eyes to take down the puffiness and then proceed on to work. In the afternoons I would repeat the process, stopping to get a grip on myself about a mile from home.
Yesterday Cassidy’s birthday came off without a single hitch. There were no tears of any kind during the party, a pretty miraculous feat when 12 girls are invovled. Cassidy was immensely pleased to be the center of attention and she got an absurdly huge pile of presents. Towards the end of the party I paused while picking up various bits of colored paper and cake plates, it was the exact time of my dad’s collapse. As I have all the other months, I thought of him, told him how much we miss him and let him know that I love him. I told him what a fabulous party it had been and that he would have loved seeing Cassidy tearing around and kicking up her heels while her red hair flew about her face. I like to hope he was there somewhere and smiling at our day.