Open Wounds

There are times when the wound feels raw. 

Those times are fewer than a year ago, but still sneak up on me when I least expect them.  Like when I’m wasting time watching Ellen videos on my computer at 4am on my night off, and I flip back to Facebook to see if anything has changed in the last few hours, just to see his face staring back at me.   Which, of course, makes me miss him, and the sound of his voice.  So I listen to the voicemail I have saved, and before I know it, I’m sobbing

and the wound feels very, very raw.

I stopped by to see him on a cloudy afternoon in Portland a week ago, and we talked about the things my heart longs for him to be able to share with us.

Sissy and her incredulous work ethic and the devotion she has for her studies which is only outdone by the love she has for her beautiful baby girl.  I wish that he could be here to call her and give her encouragement when she needs it most- both with school and parenting.  I wish I could hear him giggle along with Little Missy and talk about baseball and hurricanes with Billy.

How great it was to visit Nate in Bend and see how hard he’s been working with the pub, brewery and upcoming baby.  I wish he could’ve been the first person to join the 33 Club, and made sure there was always “a FUBARIAN” on the Buddy Board.  I wish he could’ve taken all of his golf friends to Bailey’s Tap Room yesterday when they debuted the IPA, and gone back every day with someone new until the keg was dry.  I wish he could tell Ashley embarrassing stories of when Nate was little and thank her for continuing the Chambers name.

I wish I could talk to him about today’s election and how the most surprising part of my trip to the Middle East last spring was how it changed my views on the role of government.  I wish he could tell me to be patient with Tres as he prepares to move across the country, and remind me that I felt just as nervous when I did it 6 years ago.  I wish I could talk to him about Mimi and he could give me advice on how to help her wounds begin to heal.  I wish he could watch Caleb play basketball and give Connor a hard time about the girl on his iPod.  I wish he could tell me that the fact that I feel this terribly when I make a mistake at work shows that I really am a good nurse, and he knows it won't happen again.

Turns out, there’s a lot of wishing with open wounds. 

And while I’ve missed a few days, today I am certainly most grateful for a father who loved me as best he could while he could, and taught me how to carry on without him when it became clear I would have to.  

There are worse reasons for uncontrollable tears.