It was a cloudy day, exactly a week to the hour after my father passed away that we had his memorial. We were sure it would rain, but the timing of it couldn't have been more on point. As we finished up inside, what my dad would have referred to as a "toad strangler" started pouring from the sky. It rained so hard, my dad's truck started leaking water right onto my mom. The sky and my Dad's truck were crying. In hindsight it was poetic.
We've been trying to get on with life; the term "moving on" cuts deep. 'Moving on' insinuates leaving things in the past, and although what is done, is done, I'm OK with getting on with life, but due to my DNA, I cannot move on and away from my father. He is everywhere. He's in the burned out street light that comes on for no reason. He's in my radio when Social Distortion's "Ring of Fire" randomly comes on three times in a row. When my husband and I were sitting and talking about the new place we just signed a lease on an overwhelming smell of flowers filled the room and made me a little dizzy. He's everywhere. He's in the song in my head every morning. He's hiding in a Christmas video I posted three years ago on facebook.
Life goes on.