Dad

 Everyday I face two different dilemmas. One is that I have so many things I could possibly blog about that its overwhelming, daunting, intimidating. The other... blogging desert. No blogs in my mind, no mundane to exchange into something extraordinary.

Today falls more into the overwhelm, too many ideas category. But the elephant in the room tonight is that this is my Dad's death day. Six years ago today my dad passed away. I don't know how to write about it. As I sit here, my grief grows bigger and I feel like I might cry. I miss his laugh, his voice, listening to him sing, and talk. I miss talking to him and hanging out with him. And just sitting together and not talking. 

I miss how he'd call me and say, "It's your Pop-po!" Or "Hello Carrie Lynnerskinner..." or "Hello Sunshine..."

I miss the way he smelled. The way he talked. The way he prayed. One of my kids said that one of her favorite memories was his prayer. His mealtime prayer was always the same. Unless it wasn't.  I mean, at Christmas time, or Easter, or anytime that there was a large gathering, there was a long prayer of thanksgiving. But daily meals, it was just deeply ingrained in him. 

I think about how he sang to us as kids. We'd beg to get rocked. And he sang to my older girls. Then when I had more girls, he sang to my younger girls. And my grandson. 

I haven't reconciled myself to some things he believed in and counted as part of his Christian faith. Because they aren't part of my Christian faith and I feel angry and sad when I think of the things he believed that weren't true. 

I miss my Dad. He was such a huge part of who I am.

Dad's last day at home.