Waking up in the morning is the most difficult thing I do. Once I'm up, I force myself into the shower and get dressed, putting my makeup on. Simple things. But they seem the most difficult to do.
For months, I got up and ran downstairs to see what Daddy needed. Coffee? Breakfast? Meds? Now I ask myself those questions. What do I need? Coffee? Breakfast? Meds? All of the above?
My husband is the most patient man I know. He allows me to be morose, crying, happy, clingy...whatever it is, he is there for me. Which I know is difficult, since he is also walking through deep grief.
We watched the Cotton Bowl last night, and I was so wishing that I was sitting on Dad's couch, watching him laugh when I screamed at the refs, or cheered over the Tigers. I think maybe he's talking to Jesus about the teams. Tonight the Saints play - - come on, Daddy, do your stuff!