Weird...

This is strange for me.  By this, I mean sitting down at my keyboard and writing.  Normally, when I write a blog, it tends to be either in the wee hours of the morning (around 3-4am) or around 8-9am before I really get into the work stuff for the day.  Tonight, however... It's 10pm and it just feels like there is something in the air.

It's actually really lovely outside right now.  The temp is around 73 degrees, it's not too humid.  Like I said, lovely.  But there is just something that I can't quite put my finger on that is making my face go all scrunchy and think "What am I missing?"  

Part of it, I know, is the fact that all weekend I've been searching for signs of the grim reaper in certain places.  I think more than half the world is waiting for that.  (We all know what that is, I'm not going to go any more in depth than that.) But it just feels like there is something else... I have no idea.  I also know that I'm very much missing my Dad, and that could have something to do with my current state of mind.  My Dad's birthday is coming up.  I hear him chanting his birthday in my head over and over.  I want to do something to mark the occasion.  I did order a couple of bottles of wine from his favorite vineyard in Indiana.  I'll crack one of his favs open on his birthday and save the rest for the holidays.  

I've got to seriously plan our next trip to KY for this month.  Part of me doesn't want to bother, but with his house potentially closing by the end of this month, now is the only time that I've got left to remove the remaining things from the house.  I have a serious case of ostrich-head-in-the-sand on this trip.  I know it's the last time I'll be in KY for a while.  I very much want this off my plate because it is such a heavy weight, but at the same time I know this means that Kentucky is no longer home.  Kentucky has always been home and I know the community there will always welcome me with open arms, but now it's like... there's no more family there for me.  Other than the rental properties my Dad left me, which are now officially in an LLC, there's nothing for me to really go back for.  Any reason for me to go back is for business... I can honestly admit that I never really thought of my Dad leaving Kentucky.  Even when he was living with us here in Florida, Kentucky was always home.  It's where I'm from.  Even all the time I spent living in northern Indiana wasn't home.  It was my Mom's house.  Kentucky was home.  Kentucky meant adventures and tractor rides with Dad.  Kentucky was always a breath of fresh air.  And now it's little more than a fond memory.  

I'm fairly sure I wrote about how my Dad's pants were still hanging on the bed post in his room.  I couldn't bring myself to move them.  They're still there.  I don't want to move them.  I find it almost funny that a pair of pants can have so much of a psychic impact on me, but I don't want to move them.  He left them there.  They were probably some of the last things that he touched in that house.  I left them where he did because part of me hopes, even though I know it isn't going to happen because I was the one that ran through the field in Francisco scattering his ashes... I wish he would still come back and either put the pants away or put them on.  I know that's not going to happen.  

I remember my Dad saying "You can't take it with you..." He was talking about so many different things- whether it was money, cars, anything tangible.  He would say it matter-of-factly and I would always agree with him because he was ultimately right.  When you die, you can't take the money in your bank account with you.  You can't drive your car to Heaven or wherever you end up.  I like to believe that the energy you have as a person maybe sticks around for a little bit and then goes off into the universe on some other adventure, but the logical part of my brain is like when the meat suit that is you stops working then you're gone.   I was there when my Dad took his last breath.  I was holding his hand.  I was a combination of crying and laughing, telling my biological Mom, Debbie, about all the cool stuff we used to do and admitting outloud that he wasn't going to wake up and go on any more adventures with me.  

I watched as the blood pressure cuff stopped taking measurements and knew the minute the nurse came in with a concerned look on her face, stethoscope at the ready to check for his heart beat... She was followed almost immediately by the rapid response team.  He was gone.  I wasn't there when my Mom passed away.  My cousins were and I'm forever grateful that they were by her side.  They told me that when my Mom passed, right before it happened, she laughed.  She had a stroke a week earlier and had been declining rapidly and before that she was pretty much non-verbal due to the dementia she suffered from.  I don't know what I expected when my Dad passed.  I guess I was hoping for one last conversation.  One last word of wisdom.  One last "Oh, Jessie...." 

Instead, it was quiet and as peaceful as it could be.  He and I, hand in hand, one last time... I don't think I'll ever get that image out of my head. I wasn't as scared as I imagined I would be, but I still think about it.  I still think about that day. I think about coming home, my friends John and Greg coming by and showing off Dad's casita (which we had just finished furnishing about a month before hand) and telling them about the stuff we still planned to do to make it even more homey for him.  I honestly thought that we would have more time with him.  I wasn't expecting to get the phone call to go back to the hospital.  

And now, with his birthday coming up and selling house... Everything feels so final.  I'm closing a book.  Sure, I'll pick the book up every so often, flipping through the pages, looking at pictures, but it's true what they say that you can't go back.  So, we keep moving forward.  My Dad left some big shoes to fill... I always loved playing in his shoes, trying to do what he did.  I can only hope that I do him justice.