Missing You Tonight

I'm sitting here, at 2:00 a.m., missing you sooo much tonight. It seems to come in waves now, rather than the sustained pain that never seemed to go away. I'm not quite sure when that changed. But it seems to make the pain even sharper when it hits because it's only then that I'm aware of the absence of it. The past three days have been so hard. I actually cried in my exercise class today because they were playing a Nora Jones song during the cool down and it reminded me of Eva Cassiday. Who in this family can EVER hear Eva Cassiday and not think of Daddy? I can't bring myself to watch Extreme Makeover - Home Edition either. Sometimes I cry when the commercials come on because I remember the sweet, soft look Dad would get when he would watch that show. He cried every time! And we all cried with him. Now I cry alone. It's kind of gotten to the point where I don't really call Mom or DeeDee or Tommy when I'm have a really tough time, just in case they are doing okay. I don't want to send them on a spiral. This is a lot more lonely section of the grief road because of that. There are some things that I can still remember about Daddy with such clarity. The way it felt when he hugged me and the exact place my head rested on his chest; the broken sound of his voice when he was deeply moved in prayer calling out to God; the half crooked schmoozy smile he got on his face when he sang (he looked like one of those heart throb crooner's from the '50s); the way I could always hear his voice in any crowd when we were singing in church; the way I could always find that gorgeous silver head towering above all the others in a room; the nightly annointing and prayer before he went to bed (those memories are soooo precious to me because they are shared by so few); his rituals: Casey's "W", dishes right after dinner, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, news, coffee, then hot tub, the constant thread of him whistling around the house while he did his chores. Tonight I'm not sure how I can live the rest of my days without these wonderful treasures that have been a constant rhythm throughout my life when I sometimes lost my way and went "home". I could always find that rhythm there. It was a sure as sunrise and sunset. Like so much else in Dad's life, he was trying to point the way to the sureness of "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today and forever". But I do so miss the tangible image of my Daddy pointing the way with his life. Maranatha - come quickly Lord Jesus ... for this and so many more reasons.