Of all seasons for missing my dad, Fall seems to be the hardest for me.
Perhaps it’s because Thanksgiving is coming. And, of course, Thanksgiving means the dog show will be on. We used to sit and watch every year together from beginning to end. Yeah, some people would watch the beginning or just the end with us… But, every year, you could bank on us sitting side by side, betting on the Boxer.
It makes me get that horrible sinking feeling thinking about watching the dog show alone for the second year in a row. But, you know I will always bet on the Boxer.
Most of the time I try to pretend everything is alright so that no one will feel bad for me. I avoid talking about the days where I’m so sad and filled with missing my dad. Plus, it’s been almost two years. Way past the one that is “socially acceptable” to talk openly about in our society, it seems.
I put on a smile when friends mention going to dinner with their dads, and I pretend I didn’t see the look of pity smear their face as soon as they realized they talked about their dad who is alive to the girl whose dad well…isn’t.
But today, apparently, I needed him. I missed him so much that it had to make itself known.
I went to the store for some baby gifts for my neighbor and walked away with a toffee symphony bar and almond roca. I don’t even really like almond roca. But, for some reason I needed to buy it.
When I got home, I showed Tyler my big buys and we sat and ate almond roca in silence. All I could seem to mutter was “Almond Roca reminds me of my dad” … He nodded and then we laughed at the fact that I only brought home his favorite treats. Not our own.
I guess my way of dealing with days like today is by eating my feelings with my dad’s favorite goodies. I’ll take it.
I miss him and miss the (LOUD!) way he used to chew. It used to totally gross me out. But now? I’d take loud bites of toast at 3 a.m. over none at all.
The best is when Hazel wakes up in the middle of the night and my feet shuffle across the wood floor to her bedroom. This is a daily occurrence. And every time it happens, I make a conscious effort to lift my feet up and tip tow quietly to retrieve her. Only to realize that I’m shuffling my way back to my room five minutes later.
Wood floor and shuffling feet will always remind me of my dad. Always.
I used to get mad at him for it because it was so loud and I was just trying to sleep. But now, it just makes me smile.
I vow to forever be a foot shuffler — Just so my kids can have this same memory of me.
I could go on and on about things that are making me miss him lately. But, the truth is, I miss him always. Not just when I’m eating things I don’t particularly like. Or when I’m shuffling down the hallway. Or even just in the Fall.
I miss him all the time.