Grief is Weird

I'm a glass half full kind of person...to the point that it never enters my mind that someone will actually die. I always have hope. I did that with my Dad. He's been gone 11 years - I still haven't deleted his cell phone number from my contacts - in fact it's still in my favorites list.

One year ago today Randy and I left Mayo in Rochester, MN to drive home to Tennessee. He had just finished 5 weeks of radiation and chemo for esophageal cancer. At his last radiation treatment he told me he was not going to ring the bell - in his mind he wasn't finished. The nurse even came out and asked me if he was sure and I said yes, he was sure. When he got through surgery and to the 1 year mark, he would go back and ring the bell. We left full of hope - after all, the doctors told him that after treatment and his upcoming surgery he would have 40 years to live.

We left Rochester at zero dark thirty, planning to be home before the Tennessee-Florida game that evening. Of course we hit traffic, and I mean full stop not going anywhere traffic, just south of Nashville. Thanks to my navigating skills (and by that I mean Waze) we found a back way, but would not make it home before the start of the game. So what did we do? We pulled up the Hulu app and watched the first quarter as we were in the car - I swear I was paying attention to the road.

This week has been hard...I mean really hard. Maybe because at this time last year we thought he had this great prognosis. Surgery was the next hurdle and his surgeon was so confident that it gave both of us confidence. Maybe because it's been 39 days since he left (I avoid saying the "D" word when referring to Randy). Maybe because I've been unpacking our things from North Dakota and found that he carefully wrapped every single breakable, sentimental item I own (and there were a lot) so that it would be safe when it was moved (3 times including the last time here in July). 

His toothbrush and toothpaste are still on the sink where I put them after we brushed his teeth the morning of August 13. Is today the day to put them away? No, not today. Like I said, grief is weird.