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.
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