I was just talking to my sister. She had a blue day yesterday. I had a blue moment yesterday. Hers was because she was driving dad's truck around town to mow his properties and other family properties, and had his dog snuggled up next to her like she used to do with dad. Makes for some melancholy thoughts.

Mine was briefly yesterday morning as I took time to sip a cup of real coffee on the steps of my front porch- envisioning dad's truck making a surprise trip to my driveway to drop off some treasure he knew I'd like. I could feel my heart lift as I recalled the joy these visits brought: I'd grab him a cup of coffee and we'd play with Abby in the front yard until he had to scoot, usually for lunch at some little diner or a fish that had his name on it. Then I saw him helping me bury my cat last fall, a week before he died, right there under the birch tree where Kevin told me not to bury her. And I felt the guilt set in as I played the whole...wonder if that exertion caused his heart attack...wonder if...wonder if. He was only here one more time after that, to drop off a bag of apples and some cider from the orchard. And he was in a hurry. Stink. So I grabbed my cup, headed inside and decided to abort the cry.

We talked this morning about staying busy. About how the week he died we had an unusually full weekend and week that followed; about how we headed into estate stuff and holidays. Into Israel and wedding. Into a new job. Into summer. Into every thing life asks of us and in the moments when our thoughts have half a minute to settle...it's there. Just waiting for us to remember how traumatic it all was. How badly it hurts down under there. How if we cave now, we'll go missing for a long time and we just can't go there. Not now. Maybe not ever. And I hope he understands. I hope he knows.

But the sun is out today. And my afternoon, evening and weekend are spoken for. Just stinks is all...