I have so many balls in the air right now that it's all I can do to get everything planned for each day done. People ask me why I do this to myself, and I usually make something up.
There's a reason.
A few actually.
It sucks because there are a few days in the second half of the month that I approach with trepidation these days. Days that used to be happy ones that aren't anymore, not in the way they used to be at least. Whatever pieces of them that remain good and happy have seemed to be overshadowed by the bad of late, and I tend to dread these next few weeks.
I do all the things I do in June to keep myself busy, to stay occupied, in the hopes that I will stay sufficiently distracted.
Even the photo challenge contest has significance. I need it to end on July 7th because I need to have something positive to look forward to on that date every year. Without it, I would not greet that day warmly in any way, shape or form.
I do these things to keep myself sane.
Father's Day is a rough one when your father isn't around anymore. Though there are certainly other fathers in my life, mine is gone. It's not fair and I would give anything to have him back for just one moment. I hate the fact that my children have to grow up without him here.
I miss him.
Time is supposed to make things better, and maybe in some ways it does. It softens the edges just a bit, but the longer it's been, the more I'm convinced that it never really gets better in any real sense...you just adjust to your new reality.
So what if I talk to the sky sometimes?
So what if I still can't listen to anything on the country stations?
So what if I tear up when I see a little old man out somewhere and wish he'd had that chance?
So what if I wonder what the hell happened to all of us since then?
It is what it is.
He wouldn't want me to be sad. He wouldn't want me to waste any time missing him. So I try not to. I keep myself busy. I do what I have to do. Like run a reading challenge and a photo challenge and start a support group.
Once I get past Father's Day, I still have two weeks of a rollercoaster to ride. The ups, the downs, the sweet that only seems to come in the form of bittersweet. I have hope that this year might be better, that it might sting less. I can hope. I have to hope.
Until July 7th is over, I'll be throwing those balls up in the air, spending way too much time keeping myself busy.
Forgive me if I'm a little frazzled until then. It's actually part of a plan.
I'll be back to my normal self, whatever that is anymore, on the flip side.
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