If you've been around here awhile, I'm sure you'll remember hearing me mention my Dad. I think I talk about him a lot, because he's a huge part of my life. Or at least he was. Dad passed away two weeks ago, on May 16th. It was sudden, and unexpected, and unfair, and too damn soon. Stupid aneurysm.
He taught me so much- how to butcher, how to hunt, how to garden, how to build, how to drive, how to live. I still had so much to learn. The boys had so much to learn. They were just getting started, figuring out what an amazing man their Grandpa was.
There's so much more I want to write, I want to tell the story of this amazing man. But I can't. Not right now. It hurts too much. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell his stories. Right now, everything I do reminds me of my Dad. Everywhere I go reminds me of my Dad. I still can't believe he's gone.
So I haven't been wring. I haven't been doing much. My heart is broken, and my head is stuck in a permanent fog. My heart just isn't in it this year. I do what I have to to get through each day, and I putter here and there. Milk and cream sit souring in the fridge. I can't get it together to make cheese and butter. Dad's never going to taste my cheese. The garden should be planted. I barely spend any time in the greenhouse. There's so much work to do, and I just want to crawl under a rock.
I want my daddy back.