Something's Missing

If you told me that someday I would miss a man that cackles like an old woman, manic to distraction, and still pulled stunts like peeing in his sister's shampoo bottle, well I would have told you that you were as crazy as that guy sounds. It's been six years since Dad was killed by a drunk driver, and I miss everything about him. Well, almost everything. That shampoo business was just wrong.

I wish I could say that I honored him well today, that I did and cooked all sorts of fun stuff. Instead I watched sad movies, ate little and napped long. But something that I'm truly thankful for, I had a nice dream about him. I think it's hard enough to have a dream about the person you want to see most, but to do it and have the person look how they are supposed to and act like they are supposed to is darn near impossible for me. Usually my naps include some stressful nightmare. This dream was lovely and fun. When I got up, Pandora played lots of Van Morrison.

A very long time ago, I went to an outdoor Van Morrison concert with him and my family. I was too young to know who I was listening to, and all of the music sounded the same to me. What stayed with me from that night was resting on our picnic blanket and watching the clouds drift. And how happy he was to see this guy sing.

I have a small dark bonus that surprised me. I can't remember the date I was diagnosed with PH. I know it was just the month before he died, but I have no idea when. So many other people that I have met have that date seared in their mind. I can barely remember the moment I was told.  I gotta say, I'm kind of grateful for that. So much about this condition is paralyzingly scary, but having such an immense distraction happen at pretty much the same time really helped to cement that this is just a thing. Today I have PH. Who knows about tomorrow?  It's not something that made his death meaningful or anywhere close to worth it, but it is the tiniest string of silver, and I need every trick to keep my mind on track.

I know I'll be thinking of him even more over the next few days, and I'll try to contain any manic overabundance of cooking, but I will be practicing my crazy hag cackle and my kitchen dancing skills. Just me and Van.