That's all I can see when I close my eyes. My dead father. Lying in the hospice at 445am on the 8th of February.. His mouth open, his eyes partially shut. I remember thinking come'n dammit just breathe. I could visualize his chest rising and falling. I was sure I saw it. But nope I didn't. So now I'm faced with a lifetime of seeing only my father dead or a lifetime of happy good memories with the twinkle in his eyes. The smile on his face. I'm choosing the happy memories. I'm going to scrapbook his life. Or his life that I know.
I decided this last night after a grueling 30 minute workout session with Theresa. I didn't want to go home, but I couldn't quite manage to go and see people like I thought I might have been able too.. I'm trying to regain my 'life' but my almost anti-social personality is using my dad's death as a crutch. So while driving to the Cheesecake Cafe, I turned into Scrapbookers Paradise and spent a fortune. Then paid to find out that my new fangled credit card needed me to remember my pin number which of course I never had. Called Sal. He gave it to me reluctantly. :D .. But in my process I found some neat paper, neat embellishments. But no book. Went to Michaels. Found one that was nice but black. I didn't want black. Wanted something fun. Because as much as dad was a hard-ass, some might even say anal (sorry daddy) he was a fun guy. Found a really fun, but still masquline scrapbook.
So in addition to going back to school, training for a huge huge bike ride, training for a half marathon, 2 book clubs, I'm now going to exorcise a dead father picture. It's going to be fun!
7 hours ago