Gratitude.

[kyrielle]

I am grateful for (in no particular order):

• Having had Mom and Dad. They were some of the best parents anyone could wish for, and I was blessed to have them. If I am now feeling very sad and fragile because they are both gone, Dad quite suddenly and unexpectedly, that does not change the fact that I was blessed to be their daughter.
• Friends, family, coworkers, and everyone else sending good thoughts, wishes, flowers, and food. (This is not a request for more food, especially at this time. It's deeply appreciated but that refrigerator is stuffed to almost overflowing.) It was so nice to come home tonight, later than intended, tired, starving hungry (my body has finally got back to normal and I don't have to remember to eat without cues from it...) and be able to have real food without real effort. I suspect that in the absence of the gifts, I would have had a microwave dinner, because they're easy. Instead I had cornish game hen, stuffing, and carrots. (And lemonade, but that's mine.) Scott had pumpkin pie as well, but I was too full for it. (Good pie, though - I had some either last night or earlier today, I forget which.) And the words of support and caring and sympathy mean so much now.
• Dad's organization. He was very very thorough about making sure that all the info was there for whoever was left behind, if he died. Everything. (Okay, not full on Linux tutorials, but given who he knew and taught and so on, plus my friends, it's not like I can't get help. And all the stuff that is not general knowledge, with so far only one exception, has been there. He went to the trouble of scanning his and Mom's birth certificates and marriage license into the general info file - which is, no, not unencrypted on his main file system, but there was an unecrypted CD in the safety deposit box. And one at the house, because he was preparing to update the box, I think.)
• Dad's lack of organization. The house is a complete clutter bank in many ways. I obviously learned that from somewhere. (Mom tended to be tidier until she got tired of trying to keep up with two of us. Actually, she was still tidier, she just didn't clean up after us!) It's oddly comforting. And I keep running across random memories on my way from here to there.
• Random memories.
• Wooden duck puppets. When I was young, my parents got a wooden duck - the sort you could walk around from a pair of crossed sticks in your hand. I wasn't very good at it then and got easily frustrated, then got the hang of it later. I have seen the duck several times now, where it hangs on the old red rack on the back porch. It amuses me each time.
• Candles. Beautiful and warm and sweetly scented and precious. I don't love bayberry candles personally (but don't mind them either: they are nice enough), but Mom did. We had a bayberry pillar when I was growing up, which she loved but I largely ignored. When it finally burned down she was sad - they could find no more. They were looking for pillars. I have since found out no one makes pillars because of the way the wax is; not sure how she had one. Perhaps that has changed. A year or two ago I first found the tapers, ordered some, and she was happy - they were what she remembered, the right smell and look. I'm glad I found them while she was still alive. And I have a strong affection for those candles, not for my sake, but for hers.
• Words spoken, when they still could be. Dad, sometime in the past week, told me that he didn't think he'd said it recently, and that he's proud of me. I knew that on many levels anyway, and I think he'd said as much before, but that he said it while he still could - so close that it's fresh in my memory - means a lot.
• Memories. They are what I have left of my Dad, that and his belongings and his ashes, and I treasure the memories far more (of course, some of the things are rich in memories also). In the living room is a big old entertainment cabinet that I have loved since I was a child. And I don't remember who made it. Dad mentioned it in the last two weeks but I forgot again. I don't remember it not-being-there at Ribbon Ridge, so perhaps it was made while we were in Carlton - by Gordon Orr. That would be my guess, but I don't know for sure.
• Sleep. The first night I didn't sleep well. Friday night was okay. Last night was restless but I got back to sleep. With luck I will sleep well tonight. It does help, rather a lot.
• Scott. I know I already listed friends and family, but he has been beside me through this, grieving, helping, driving me around, helping me keep track of things, helping to inject some sanity when I get befuddled, tolerating it when I turn into a complete stress-ball (especially common when he is driving me home on dark, rainy roads, apparently - or mostly just driving...). Tonight's fun moment: I freak out because the cats are lurking by the front door, and we're going to have to - while loaded with backpack and laptop which I had taken over to work from - dash out to avoid letting them out. Scott, sensibly (paraphrased): "Why don't we go out through the back door?" The back door, besides not having cats lurking by it, leads onto the indoor back porch, thus giving another chance to stop anyone trying to escape.... Neither did, though Basta lingered back there a bit. Poor things; I can't explain why they're not permitted that now, but I'm not there constantly to let them back in.
• Books. Sometimes, I just need to vanish into one for a bit. It helps, sometimes.

And now I'm going to bed. Because otherwise I may have to find a way to be grateful for exhaustion headaches if I want to keep to the tone of this post, and I think that's beyond me. :D

Comments

[aellia.livejournal.com]

Bless you.
I haven't got time to read this at the moment,but tonight,when all is still,I will.
Many thoughts
xx

[retsuko.livejournal.com]

*hugs* Just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. Hang in there, sweetie.