Dad should be here not there

I was driving home from the grocery store and I thought about Memorial weekend and what kind of food my Dad would make if he were here. The first thing I thought of was that ice cream-jello treat he use to make. He also would BBQ about 10 pounds of perfectly seasoned, moist and delicious chicken, even though there would never be enough adult mouths to eat it all. He might make 2 gallons of potato salad too. He would drink one or two of his favorite diet sodas. He would wear pants while BBQ-ing, no matter the temperature outside. He would wear one of those flowery shirts. He would probably give me a big hug and we would go check out the tomato plants in the garden.

I was looking forward to living in the same house with my Dad for years and years. I am terribly sad that I don't get to enjoy him anymore. I was extra excited for my kids to be exposed to him every day. I am so crushed that they probably won't even remember him.

I feel so sad when I think about last year and how busy I was with a job and taking care of my kids. I hardly ever went downstairs and just hung out with Dad because I was just too busy or too caught up with things that totally didn't matter. I even remember the last hug I got from him before anything went wrong. I remember feeling a little extra spark of some kind when he gave me that hug. I didn't think much of it at the time but now it holds a special place in my heart.

I miss my Dad terribly. I want to have a 10 minute hug when I see him again. I hope they allow flowery shirts on the other side, cause that's what I'm expectin' to find him in. And I hope he smells the same.

To honor my Dad's birthday (which was yesterday), I baked some Pillsbury flaky biscuits. An added benefit of living with my Dad was being privy to all the little things he liked to eat, you know, all the little treats he enjoyed. He loved those biscuits and they made the whole house smell wonderful. So I baked some up yesterday, put ample amounts of butter on every one of them while they were still hot (just like he use to do) and then I ate at least 3 because, heck, that's what Dad would want me to do.