life goes on
Yoda says, "I am sad Pa died, but Pa tells me to be happy. Pa wants mama to be happy too."
So I am . . . . not always, but I keep trying.
I still don't really believe he is gone. There were too many close calls, too many times the doctor said, "this is it," and it wasn't. Part of me still believes he is sitting in his apartment mixing contraband guacamole. Part of me thinks the doctors will call and say, "Holy crap, he even pulled through this." Part of me really thinks he will call me up and we will laugh at how he scared the bejeezus out of all of us.
I know better, because he is sitting in a box on my mantle. He's wearing his cowboy hat, waiting for his stone to be engraved, so we can finish this up.
Today we drove to Lake Pepin. We ate burgers at the Pickle Factory, threw rocks into what Yoda calls the "Might-eee Miffissippi," forced Rico to visit the Laura Ingalls house and stopped to visit Gram.
This week we will celebrate our spring showcase. All three kids will be performing (one more than others). It will be a good week.
It has to be.
We've had enough that aren't and life goes on.