It all started with me laughing out loud.
I’m sitting at home alone this morning holding a cup of tea and contemplating the weekend. I’m trying a new creamer – a blend of cashew and almond. It’s wonderfully creamy, packs 10g of protein, and has a decent taste. I just can’t look in my cup. It looks like it’s curdled, but just a little shake and all is back to normal. It’s the wierdest thing to have to get past the initial reaction to dump the whole cup. I’m over that now. Just don’t look in the cup, Hannah.
It’s misting steadily outside though I can tell the sun is trying to poke through the clouds. Boy those windows could use cleaning. I never notice dirty windows. I don’t know why anyone would notice dirty windows. Don’t look at the dirt, look past it. It’s so much better to look past the dirty windows than at them. The sheep are lying down in the pasture. Imagine wearing a heavy wool coat and lying down on wet grass in the misty rain. Then again, I imagine that sheep don’t imagine much.
I watch the traffic in the distance. It transports me to sitting with dad on the front porch, God rest his soul. We’d sit there and wonder where that car was going. And that one? Well maybe they’re not going somewhere, maybe they’re coming from somewhere. True but that doesn’t make sense; just because you’re coming from somewhere does not mean you’re not going anywhere. That is true. That’s a big truck, what do you think it’s carrying? I don’t know but I like how they come in waves and then the highway is quiet.
I miss that guy. I haven’t mused with him for a year and half now. Sigh. We will again. Last time we talked he was in the hospital fighting Covid. We didn’t know it would be the last time. At least I didn’t. Did you know, dad? He was having trouble getting a deep breath, so we didn’t talk for long. He told he was just resting and that he was going to be alright. To be good. He called me Mummy Blue. I didn’t say much. I was crying and didn’t want him to know. I love you Mummy Blue. I lost it. I love you Daddy Blue. Rest.
Within a day he was gone. The damage to his heart and lungs was extensive. He died on the operating table. Rest Daddy Blue. I’m so sorry, said Dr. Ngunga. Thank you for your efforts, doctor. Yes, he was an amazing man.
Death sucks! Grief is a bear…
Next thing I know I’m watching myself reading a eulogy virtually. I don’t want to be here. I want to be there. What am I doing here?
Well, right now I’m sitting here sobbing as I write this. But I can tell it won’t be a long sob. Just deep and intense heaving. I dreamt of him the other day. He was walking. That was so great. He was walking really fast which isn’t like him. He generally strides. Majestically. He had a limp in the dream. And he walked fast. But it was him. I really need to start on that book about him. But I need to finish this other one first…
The reason I grabbed my computer to blog in the first place was because I had just finished laughing out loud. And that made me think I hadn’t blogged in too long. I really should replace the missing button in my shirt. But not now. I was watching birds in the pond across the field and enjoying the clouds gliding across the sky. Sometimes they move really fast, those clouds. This time they were. I wonder where they’re going.
All of a sudden, I saw my bald eagle. He did a swoop towards the water, but it was a gradual swoop, not a fast one like he was catching something. I lean forward quickly to see what he’s doing, and I catch the funniest sight I’ve seen all morning. A tiny bird is chasing him off. This bird is smaller than his massive white head and he’s doing everything he can to get away from it.
That made me so happy I jumped to my feet to see how it would end. They dip behind the trees and I’m left to my imagination…
That was good. So here I am alone at home. Laughing. Crying. It’s going to be a good day.