In preparation for Father's Day, I put together a package of items and sent them to my good friend Krista. She took her girls to Dad's niche on Father's Day and sent me pictures of the visit.
Krista put my card, a livestrong bracelet, and a copy of the CD Aunt Carrie made for Dad's Lompoc Memorial in the potted flower she took to set on the ground. (I should have known she would find one that matched everything else perfectly!) I had also made a small bouquet of paper flowers to put in the vase on Dad's niche. On the flowers, I included a few ultrasound images of the baby as well as pictures of what Vickie, Nate, and I have been up to since Dad passed away. I am sorry I was unable to visit the niche myself, and it meant so much to me to have Krista take these things up there. Dad was pleased to see Krista, Jordan, and the girls in his final days, and I know he would have been happy to have these visitors on Father's Day, too. And look how big Evie is getting!
From here in Maryland, I also tried to find little ways to commemorate Dad. I went to the gym when I woke up, and while I was there, I listened to the songs from Aunt Carrie's CD on my iPod. Nobody seemed to notice that I was tearing up as I listened to "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" while doing my leg presses. : ) When I got home, I read a few random old emails Dad sent me through the years. Every time I read his writing I can hear his voice, and it was funny to be reminded of minor incidents I'd forgotten about. Since the US Open was finishing up, I also made a point of tuning into that for a few hours... but I slept through most of it. Even that felt appropriate, though, since I can remember many a weekend afternoon spent dozing on the couch while Dad watched golf, only to be awoken when he yelled "get UP!" or "GET in the HOLE" after an important shot. I was happy to see Rory McIlroy hold it together after a great week, and I really wished I could hear what Dad would have had to say about his performance both at the Masters and at the US Open.
We also had a nice, low-key Father's Day get together with Billy's family. We were planning to attend a Father's Day Shrimp Feast, but we found out at the last minute that it had been canceled. Instead, Billy, Chuck, Patti, Brian and I went over to Nana and Mr. Dick's house to spend the afternoon with the DePriest side of the family. We ordered Italian take-out, so I likely ended up eating better than I would have at the Shrimp Feast. I also had Patti take a picture of me and Billy since I don't have any pictures of the two of us since I've been pregnant.
It seems a little less noticeable here, but my belly has finally gotten big enough that strangers seem to recognize that I'm pregnant. I'm right around 5 months along now, and I've been feeling much better lately than I was feeling for the first four. I haven't had to take my nausea medication for several weeks, I've been sleeping better, and though I still don't have much of an appetite, I've been able to eat better. Now that Billy and I can both feel the baby move, the pregnancy seems a lot more real, and we've been trying to tackle the projects we need to get done before she arrives. Last week I repainted the guest bedroom in "minted lemon," but the name is a little misleading; I'd describe it as a pale sage green. Now we are getting ready to start figuring out which "stuff" we need to have for the baby, trying to decide which childbirth classes to take, and making sure we know which questions we want to ask on Thursday's tour of the maternity facility at the hospital where I'll deliver.
This year, Father's Day helped me to spend some time focusing on how important my dad has been to me, and it also gave me a chance to appreciate the other people in my life who have helped me cope with losing him. Since January, several people have expressed a similar sentiment to me-- that you don't ever get over the loss of someone you love, but that in time, you begin to get used to the idea of living without them. It still breaks my heart that there are so many experiences yet to come that I won't get to share with my Dad, but I feel encouraged that I'll continue to be able to find ways to remember the influence he has had on my life as I move forward.
("Morning Has Broken" is an old hymn that Cat Stephens popularized in the 70s. Dad asked us to play it at his memorial, but I didn't. I hit the wrong button on his iPhone, so I played "Father and Son" instead, which is considerably more depressing but ironically still fairly appropriate for a memorial. Sorry, Dad. I didn't even know I'd done it until I played back the video. The mistake was an inadvertent one, but is perhaps appropriate because morning had not yet broken for me in March.)
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