Grief, continued

I have been having a hard time finding the time to sit down and blog. Or even just sit down. Lacey has had some increased fussiness, during feeding times only. That, coupled with her cold, she has not been feeding well and we went to the pediatrician for the third time in 2 weeks. Baby zantac has worked wonders, even in just a couple of doses and my zen baby is back--whew! She even rewarded me with a 4.5h stretch of sleep AT NIGHT! But guess what? I had insomnia. How's that for irony? She has not repeated the phenomenon. Oh well, at least I know she can do it.

We have also been getting out of the house a little more. We had our first playdate this week and we have had a few visitors this week as well. We have also been doing errands like Target and the grocery store in the early morning hours so that its not too crowded. I still don't have the physical stamina I wish I did. I can overdo it very easily and then have abdominal pain, which is a drag. I am hoping we go out for sushi tonight. I have been indulging in sushi almost weekly since Lacey was born.

Also since Lacey was born, I have not had a very difficult time with the grief I was experiencing prior, due to my dad's death. But its funny how grief works, sometimes you are just going along in your life and something will happen, you see something seemingly benign and the band-aid is ripped off all over again. This happened twice this week or was it last week? The days are all running together now. I turned on Oprah, which I never watch and Lisa Niemi, Patrick Swayze's wife was on the show, talking very candidly about her husband, their marriage and the last few days of his life. The last few days of Patrick Swayze's life sounded a lot like the last few days of my dad's life. She described it in great detail, things the hospice nurses said, his level of coherence, etc. It was enough to just stop me dead in my tracks and remember those last few days, seeing him via Skype, talking to him, but him unable to speak back. The pain of his death just resurfaced and it wasn't pleasant.

Then today, Lana asked me to see photos from our wedding, which she does quite often and when I got to the bookshelf, I noticed a scrapbook I made from college. I asked her if she wanted to see mommy in college and she agreed. I was looking at photos of my friends and those silly times that seem SO very long ago and wedged in one of the pages was a letter from my dad, dated February 21, 1995. A real letter people, not an email, remember those? Wow, it was weird to read. Especially weird b/c this pre-dated my parents' divorce, my dad's relocation to VA. It was as close of a snapshot of my family that I remember from my childhood, but that I rarely even think about now. He talked about all of these things going on at home--silly things like we had moles in the garden, the cat was being a pain in the ass, he was traveling for work too much. He was so sweet, giving me encouragement to study hard, but to remember to have fun. To be good, but not to stress so much. He said that I bring him and my mom unending joy and pride. He apologized for not writing often enough.

Finding this letter was a gift, almost a conversation I wish I could have with him now. I wish I could have any conversation with him right now. Sometimes, after it rains and the sky is blue with those big fluffy white cotton clouds, I look to the sky and talk to him and wonder what he is doing up there. But its not the same.