Hit By a Wave

I think about my dad everyday. It would be hard not to with all his equipment, projects, and dreams around staring me in the face. I wonder what he would think about some family situations happening now. I try figure out his opinion about different plans we have for the animals. I remember all the work he did here every day, and occasionally remember how we would often butt heads on certain things. I think about how he died, and still find it hard to believe.

Hardly a day passes that one of the kids don't mention Papaw. They talk about running errands with him and getting treats. They remember stories like how he talked Lydia into going to Bob Evans instead of Mc Donalds by calling it Mc Bobs. They remember all the the things he did here. Sometimes they ask to stop by his grave, and we do for a few minutes.

Most days those memories and thoughts are just part of the day. They are normal, and don't cause a great deal of emotion. Then other days, for reasons I don't understand, I am hit by a huge wave of emotion. These waves seem to be triggered by the most unlikely things.

Last weekend we attended a local farm and food conference. One of the classes I took during the conference was farm record keeping. Seems an unlikely topic to illicit much emotion doesn't it? And it didn't until the end. The last topic was "Who Feeds the Cows when the Farmer is Gone?" The instructor briefly talked about having a will and a plan for the farm in case something should happen to the farmer. Honestly, I can't remember what all he said. I was too busy trying to keep myself from sobbing.

Yesterday, on my way to work, I was writing in my head. I was thinking about a local history story that involved our property. I was trying to remember the details, and work out the wording. Then I remembered when Tammy of the Unusually Usual Farm Chick was here in the spring making a video of our farm and sheep shearing. While shearing, dad shared a bunch of stories about this area. Most of the stories I had never heard before. Sadly, they could not be heard on video over the clippers. As I was driving, I remembered that Tammy mentioned she'd just have to come down and get those stories on tape later. And it hit me; that will never happen now.

I can't remember the stories either. Certainly, I could hear them from John, the same place Dad heard them. I'll never get to hear Dad tell those stories again, or the gazillion stories that we all heard a gazillion times about him growing up Amish. How many times did we hear about his first pizza or his first ice cream cone? Then I realized that many of the important details about his early life are fuzzy to me. I'll never get to hear him explain exactly why and how he left, and what happened in those years.

I don't understand why these seemingly innocent topics hit me out of the blue and turn me into an emotional wreck. It really is frustrating to me. Why can't these waves of emotion hit when I am home and free to throw myself on my bed and cry?! I don't understand it, but I do know I miss my dad.