Waking

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!