Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk

This morning as I was helping Mei and Cam with getting cereal, Cam went to get the milk from the fridge. As he grabbed the over half full gallon, I had this worry flash that he'd drop it. Along with that came an image from my childhood of when I dropped a full gallon of milk.

When I was probably 7 or 8 years old, I was helping my dad bring groceries from the store to our car. I was designated with the responsibility to carry the full gallon of milk. I felt sure of myself and if my dad had any doubts in my ability, he didn't show them. As we came up to the car though, I lost my grip on the handle of the container and watched helplessly as it slipped from my hands. The full gallon of milk hit the asphalt just right, causing an explosion of white liquid and a splattering and gushing of milk to come from the cheap plastic that once held it. I was mortified. Not only embarrassed that everyone around could see, but filled with fear that my dad would go livid on me for being a failure at my one small task. My eyes felt huge as I looked to him for what would happen next.

Thankfully, the fear was unwarranted as I had the best dad in the world. He didn't yell at me for my blunder. He didn't even chastise me about how I should be more careful or how I just cost them money by wasting an entire gallon of milk. Smiling, he reassured me that it was okay, that accidents happen, and that we would just go back in the store to get another. He showed mercy.

The pain of him being gone has not eased up any in the past 5 1/2 months. The rawness and sudden screaming and crying are fading. But the pain is very much there and it almost feels like it's worse at times. But I'm grateful my dad left me with a wealth of good memories from childhood, that I flash back to at random moments during the day. If only I knew I loved him as much as I do, I would've made more time to show him while he was here.

April Fool's

My dad had an incredible sense of humor. He loved to laugh and he loved to make others laugh. When my sister and I were younger, I remember one April Fool's Day where he had us race to see who could get our shoes on the fastest before school that morning. He had us sit down on the ground while he placed our shoes directly in front of us. I was sure I'd beat my sister in getting my shoes on quicker. The count down started, "Three...two...one...go!" Both Angel and I shoved our feet quickly into our shoes only to discover they were filled with shaving cream. I don't remember being angry at all; only finding it extremely funny.

I think this year I'll do the same trick to my kids. Although, I've told them this story so we'll see if they figure it out first. I can imagine Zach would not like it at all; he's very particular. However, I think it'd be a fun way to honor my dad's great sense of humor so it's worth it.

Happy Birthday Dad

Today (technically yesterday since I'm writing this after midnight), would've been my dad's 57th birthday. I took Mei up to a hematologist appointment at OHSU and then went to my mom's to spend the rest of the day there. After I gave Mei lunch, it was time for her nap and the only place to have her sleep was on my parent's bed. She didn't want to go in alone so I told her I would lay with her for a bit. What an incredibly difficult thing to do. My dad's bed. The same place, possibly exact spot, where he took his final breath. And there I lay. My heart broke at the thought of his passing. Of his vulnerability and helplessness. My strong, able, dependable dad...weak and fragile. To the point of death. I couldn't lay there too long because tears started falling and it was keeping Mei from sleeping. So I left the room, thankfully to be met by my grandpa's embrace. He gave me a hug and let me cry. Then my grandma took over and held me a minute while tears still flowed. I was able to pull it back together so we could get to work.

My grandparents and I worked on getting my mom's house ready to list until Angel and Mom later arrived. It was weird going through stuff on his work bench in the garage. Almost felt like I was violating his space and his stuff. Moments I would hold something and wonder what he had been doing the last time he had touched that particular item. Why did he choose to salvage that plastic mini Gatorade container? What purpose was he intending to use it for that will now never happen? A couple items I remembered seeing him use when I was younger and lived with my parents. Those were the hardest to come across because even though I knew I had no purpose for them, the thought of giving them away was painful. It's my dad's. I have no right donating it. He had it for so long. Yet there I stood basically saying, "You don't have use for this anymore Dad. I'm giving your stuff away."

When Angel & Mom got there, we had a nice dinner provided by and made by Angel. While we ate, Mom had her music going in the background. Suddenly, "I Would Give Anything" by Bread comes on. It's no use fighting back the tears. That song means too much and touches too deeply. So we cry a little and then get back to eating. After visiting until late, I drive home. Here I sit. Looking at some pictures of my dad; wishing I had more moments to share with him and still wondering how this is real.

Sometimes, I miss his voice and play a voicemail he left me on 8/21/13. I have it memorized by now. I don't usually play it once. It first has to be played once for each ear to listen to and most often about 10 times more in order to make the 13 second voicemail last longer. "Hi Hon. Sorry I missed your call. The phone was out, uh yeah the phone was out in the car. I forgot to bring it in. So anyway, just want to let you know I love you. Goodnight. Bye."

The last voicemail I have from him. I'm so grateful he said he loved me in it. There are times a person just needs to hear that and I've got a recording of it.

I hope Dad and Collin were able to see those who thought of them today. I hope they know how much they are loved and missed. There is a big void where they should be and the separation is so difficult.