June 17. 2019
Yesterday I woke lighthearted, even though it was Father's Day and I've been missing my Dad more poignantly lately. Seems the longer he's been gone, the more deep the loss feels. Still, I wasn't sad. Claire and Michael had gone off snorkeling on a Father's Day adventure and I was home alone with Chewy, the big-eared dog. It was a dog-walking, reading, call best friend, make a nice meal day.
This morning I woke to a low spirit, worry mind, some sadness. This isn't the most unusual thing but I've been feeling better lately, paying attention to the worry mice and mood dips that move in without invitation. Some days, they swoop in like the noisy, slightly aggressive, Northern Mockingbirds that have claimed our little yard. Lately, they've been sitting in the trees squawking and flicking their tail feathers, dive bombing squirrels and Chewy too.
My initial response to lowness is do something, get moving, get going, anything to shoo the squawkers out of the head, to feel happy, lighter, at least not so low. But I imagined my Dad was here, sitting in the green chair next to me, sipping a cup of tea with a fat dollop of honey - he had a sweet tooth, he'd say, This happens. Watch it all, like clouds. Laugh at yourself.
It doesn't matter how old I get, there's a deep longing to hear the loving advice of a parent. The miracle is, I can still conjure his voice, his ever warm kindness towards me.
All the ways he lifted me up, comforted.
Dad liked to say, gentle on the mental.
Dad liked to say, Go easy, hon.
Dad liked to say,