When I was in high school I was such a light sleeper my dad could stand silently in my doorway and I’d wake up saying, “Ok I’m good.”
He’d wait a few minutes come back smile and say, “Ok Jamie, feet on the floor!”
Feet on the floor was his code for get the hell up. But it also meant you got this! Let’s tackle another day!
Today was the first day since he passed that David went to work. David asked me half a dozen times, “Are you sure? I can take another day off if you need.”
Being the me that I am, the one as stubborn as Dad, “Dude, I swear I’m good! I’m gonna go to kickboxing in the morning, finish writing Dad’s obituary, clean house, go get my hair done, and relax.” He rubbed my back and went to bed. Last night I decided to stay up to write his obituary instead of doing it today. I stayed up until 2:30am trying to write it. I went to bed with it unfinished. I wrote my bonus dad’s obituary in June so I really did think it was going to be easy.
That’s a lie! A ridiculous lie. I’m angry. I’m angry that it’s boring. I’m angry that it’s not finished. I’m angry that I have to sum up almost 76 years of life in 300 words or less. I’m angry he never took the time to fill out my information book I bought him 8 years ago. You know the one where they tell their life story in it for your children and grandchildren. I’m angry that on August 20th when we decided to meet once a week so he could tell me his story that I didn’t religiously go because I got sick and couldn’t be around him for risk of getting him sick. Then I didn’t go because I got busy with my insane life schedule. Then when I could go he got sick and was too weak to even carry on a conversation longer than 5 minutes without needing a nap so I never got to hear the rest of the story. I’m angry I never got to hear the full story! Most of all, I’m angry that he’s fucking dead and I have to write it.
So here I am still in bed which is unheard of at 9:45 am. I missed my kickboxing class. I have zero desire to go to the gym. I have zero desire to clean (and I love cleaning). I genuinely wish I had a bed pan so I could just lie here in my tears without ever having to leave. All in all I probably should have told David to stay home today.
But! And that’s a big but!! I can feel my dad staring at me silently and I hear him say, “Ok Jamie, feet on the floor.” So with tears I drag my legs off the bed until my feet reach the cold wood floor. I lie there in contemplation wanting to curl back up in the fetal position and cry more. Instead I sit up and realize I can do this. Today is a new day and I can choose to attack it or it can attack me! I might not make it to the gym, I might not go run a 5k, hell I might not even clean, but today I will make it.