Counting Months

Yesterday I was at dinner, and someone said the date out loud, "May 2". That was all it took to send me right into the sad place that holds me captive with pensive thoughts about my precious father and the hole in my heart. Do you ever stop counting the months that the person you loved more than life has been temporarily seperated from you? Or when months turn into years, do you only remember years? I bet that is what happens because I used to think in terms of minutes and then hours and now have progressed to months. I think of him and smile, even though I am often smiling through tears that fall without warning or control. I would have given anything to talk to him yesterday. I felt sad and I was remembering him the Saturday before he went to be with Jesus, when he was telling me how much he loved me and my bubbies. I miss the sound of my name spilling from his lips, the sound of his heart beat, and his engaging embrace that made all my troubles dissolve into his love and protection for me. I was thinking about what he would have told me yesterday to make me feel better, and it did. I haven't dreamt about him in over a week and I know it may sound silly but I like dreaming about him. When he is in my dreams I feel like he is still with me, even if it is only in my sleep and for a short amount of time. Bittersweet. One weekend when I was home last semester my phone started ringing at 4:30 in the morning; I looked at who it was and it was my daddy's cell phone number. I got up and walked into his room to make sure he was okay and when I asked him if he needed anything he said no. He told me he just knew I was down the hall but he couldn't see me. He wanted to see me, he wanted my presence. He tucked me into his bed, next to my mom and he said, "That is what I wanted, all my girls right here with me." I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life. He sat in his chair and watched us sleep until morning came. That is what I miss. I miss his presence. I miss feeling like I am his five-year old naive, optimistic, unstained yet by the standards, temptations, and colors of this fallen world, little girl. My mom took his cell phone number upon retiring from Cingular and everytime she calls me, "daddy cell" appears on my phone's screen. Sometimes for a brief second I forget and my heart skips a beat and I can't wait to talk to him. I know I should change it but I just can't bring myself to do that yet. I really miss him a whole lot.