Snow Shovels

Long time since I wrote in here.

Lots going on, too! The biggest thing is that I will be a grandma anyday. I'm trying to get ready; daughter is young, so young. But, it is what it is. Everyone that I know who is a grandma tells me that it will be the most wonderful thing, even if the circumstances are tough. It still is a miracle. I'm counting on that!

Today I cleaned out the garage a bit, so I could park my car, and came across the snow shovels purchased last winter. And, that's when I really felt blue.

Last winter, with snow up to our booties, dad and I were feeling very stir crazy. Both of our cars were buried in snow. And, we were determined to get OUT of the snow and do something.

Dad's health wasn't great. He complained about just not having the energy he was hoping for. But, at almost 80 years of age, well, that might be expected. Dad watched me shovel. And, he had to get involved.

"Rose, let me show you a better way, " he said as he took the one snow shovel we had from my hand.

"Well, THIS is the problem! Wrong kind of shovel. We need a different kind." he said.

I was annoyed. I thought about how I needed to get OUT of this house! He was driving me nuts! This old guy! Errrr.....

So, I went and bought some new shovels. And, when I got back, dad, bundled in probably the warmest coat made, and the best gloves in the world, too, 'dug' in and got busy.

The sun was so bright that day. We had a system, and, piece by piece, shoveled that damn driveway. Dad and I talked about how the college-aged guys that lived next door, should be the ones out, shoveling. But, no..... we were on our own....

We talked about winters 'up north'. We talked about just dumb stuff. But, I do remember how proud I was, shoveling snow with my almost 80 year old dad.

Dad's shoveling was deliberate, meticulous. We both got out of the driveway, and dad treated me to lunch at Perkins, another thing we did together, on a regular basis.

So, today, moving and rearranging things in the garage, I came across those new fangled shovels. And, my heart hurt.

God, I miss him. Is this normal, to miss someone, this much, 6 months after they've died?

That was another thing we talked so much about over the years: what is 'normal' grief? Dad was a veteran griever. Buried two children, two! I cannot even imagine! Buried a wife, both parents, a son-in-law....

I valued his opinion on grief. He assured me that my grief, my unique experience, was perfectly ok. "Weep when you need to weep." he would always say, usually when I was trying not to weep. Dad gave me permission to feel whatever it was I was trying NOT to feel.

So, today, moving those damn shovels, I got tearful. Shovels. Tears. Dammit.

It doesn't help that my wedding anniversry was this weekend, too. That stinks. But, it is, what it is. That's life.

Or, as dad would say, "Well, that's the way the grapefruit squirts."

So, dad, these tears are a'flowin, just like you said they should.