Fault

Who defines the definition of fault?  In my world, "a fault" is when there is something you do that is detrimental and you still do it, that is a fault of yours.  Another thing with fault is when you place blame upon someone for something they did.  Or you did yourself and you are faulting yourself.  That is what I do.  I 100% fault myself for my dads death.  Crazy right?  In my world, not so much.  The problem is, I don't know how to get past this.  It hurts and when I think about it, the fault, guilt, blame that I feel...well, you know it sucks.  It sucks really bad.  Some day I will type the story of fault up on here.  For today, this is my way of publicly admitting fault in my dads death. (No I didn't kill him, he died in a plane crash, read the blog!)

Another weekend of clear skies.

I really think God has it out for me.  The winter has been so mild - almost like a cold spring.  The skies have been so clear.  Dad would have loved to be flying on these days.  I am finding myself more and more miserable and it just really sucks.

I have so much to be happy for.  I know people lose their parents all of the time, but I look at our baby and think of how much dad loved this age and poor Kaden will never get to know him.  He will never get to know what it feels like to run and hug his Pappy who would want nothing more than a hug from him.

Lucas has been saying "I miss Pappy." a ton lately and I don't know what to say other than so do I buddy, so do I.

It doesn't help that I really and truly think I am depressed.  Having a very difficult baby, losing my dad, dealing with the business, going back to work, fighting with my husband constantly, an 8 year old that he morphed into attitude mania and I really just want to crawl in a hole and cry.

I hoped typing would help get it out, but really my thoughts are so jumbled I can't get it all out.  I need a shrink.

February 14, 2012

Happy Valentine's Day.

Awesome.

My dad got me my first flower - a rose, on Valentines day in 1981.  I was just shy of 2 months old.  I still have that flower.  Things like that I will never forget.

The boys want to send Pappy cards, so off to the cemetary with cards attached to balloons we go tonight.

I keep doing these things for them because I know it helps them, but I hate it.  I hate it with a passion.  I want him back.  I want my freaking dad back.  Even for a second, just so I could say goodbye.  Life is so damn unfair.