Wednesday, November 17, 2010


It seems like for some things, time races by without a care to how much you wish it would slow down.
For instance, keeping my babies, well, babies for just a few minutes more.
And there are other times when and hour feels like a year.
Monday, November 22nd will be four years since my Daddy died.
That feels like a lifetime.
Especially when I think of all he's missed.
Bug is no longer a toddler, but a bright, happy boy with a few interesting quirks. And he still loves his PeePaw.
Boo was a chubby baby when Daddy left us. Now he's a clownish, handsome boy with a mind of his own.
Punk wasn't even a thought then. And I know how much he would love my little fiesty mini me.
My babies find comfort in talking to PeePaw's start, the brightest star in the night sky. They look for it every night and are so excited to see it.
I wish I could find the same comfort is something so simple.
I am selfish. Always have been. Always will be.
I wasn't ready to let go. Still aren't. But I wasn't given any choice, so I survive.
It's the natural cycle for children to bury their parents. Doesn't make it any easier. Doesn't make it feel less like a gaping hole.
It just is.
And so am I.

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