Dad died a year ago today. Sometimes I think to myself that he picked a pretty shitty year to miss, but I suppose anytime would have been pretty shitty for him to go. My biggest regret is that he never got to meet his Grandson. But sometimes I catch Griffin staring into open space, often just over my shoulder, and I wonder if that's actually true.
Now that the Greenhouses are slowly shutting down, it really feels like the end of an era here. Walking throught the empy greenhouses, especially at this time of year when we're used to them being fully in bloom with red, is sad.
(This is my most favourite picture of my Mom and Dad, taken a few years before I was born.)
My brother asked if I was planning on going to the cemetary today, where Dad's ashes are. I hadn't planned on it, it's a nice place and all, but I don't think that's where he is. I feel him around here, where he lived most of his life. I feel him in my home sometimes where he didn't get to spend much time, but I like to think that being in our house made him proud of me.
I think he's still hanging around, watching over us, making sure none of us fuck up! My Dad never did stuff half assed, and he usually did stuff right the first time, and I think of that whenever we're doing stuff around the house. He would have had his opinion on how it should be done, and I try to listen for that, because there's a good chance he would have been right. Wish he was hanging around when we bought that stupid lawnmower this past spring! I'll make sure to take him along when we finally get around to getting that tractor!