I love you too

Last week was a tough one. At the end of a long week, I found myself watching a 103 temp unnervingly as I tried to cool miss m down. We lay in my bed together. I was trying to think of stories or things I could tell her to take her mind off of being sick.  I too was getting sick. At one point I said, "I love you" and she looked at me and said, " I love you too" with a soft easy tone that struck me right between the eyes. I started to cry and couldn't stop/didn't want to. It reminded me of my dad. I think it was a culmination of the tone, the speed, the utter belief in the statement, like "yeah, I love you too...you know that." M thought I was going to throw up. I assured her it was not the case. When I caught my tears again, I told her she reminded me of Grandpa Cornish. I told her even though I was crying it made me happy.

I felt like a little piece of him came for a brief visit, to remind me how acceptance and love truly feel.

...

A co-worker lost her dad two weeks ago. She is rambling though that dark landscape of new death. We caught up today briefly and she's the only person I mentioned my dad's birthday to. She asked me how that made me feel and I said happy; it's one of the "anniversary" days I prefer to celebrate. She asked me what I loved about my dad and for some reason I didn't get to answer (I think we gravitated back to her dad). Still, for a moment, I want to remember just a few things I love and miss:
- he was the smartest man I knew
- his big broad nose, how mushy it could be
- his in-toned "OK" pause he would take while explaining something he found intellectually stimulating, when he wanted to check and see if someone was following his train of thought in the conversation (sometimes this was annoying too)
- the way he would look over his glasses at things
- watching him do a puzzle
- looking through pictures now I realize he always had an open chest (rather than rolling his shoulders forward and hiding his heart)
- a wonderful smile and a laugh
- how it felt to hug him
- the comfort I felt in his presence
- his humor
- his kind heart
- his blue eyes
- his Thunderbirds ( I think of them quite often and love to see them on the road)
- the way he would look at me and make me feel like he was really looking at me and taking in where I was in my day or my life and no matter where that was, he would tell me he loved me

I miss my dad often, I always will. I do love moments that inspire memories of him. There are many moments and a few people who inspire my joy and hopefulness in this life. My dad is certainly high on the list.