I feel compelled to write in this journal tonight because I feel immense gratitude and a well-earned sense of calm.

I can't believe it's March! In my world, autumn and winter never came. I guess we skip the seasons when we're in pain. We close our eyes and pretend it's not happening. Thanksgiving and Christmas...I was there, but it's like I was outside, watching it through a window. 

Spring is right around the corner, my favorite time of year, and soon my lilacs and peonies will bloom. I’ll make dozens of trips to my secret gardening store and bring back flat after flat of annuals and watch them grow. My dad always offered to help me garden and when I declined, he's sit outside with me and watch me dig in the dirt. 

We're all slowly adjusting to our lives without dad. For me, it was finding another job, returning to automotive, where I belong. Director of Training, Sales & Service, at Walser Automotive. My dream job. I know he's so proud of me. When I accepted the offer, my first thought was of my dad. For a split second I thought, "Wait until I tell Dad!" 

We live. We have Sunday dinner. We clean, cook, bake. We do laundry. Wake up early. Drink coffee.  Drink protein shakes. Take out the trash. We walk. Run. Read. Listen to music. Go to concerts. Eat at restaurants. Celebrate birthdays. Move into new apartments. Life goes on. He would want and be cheered by this. 

These routines, as unremarkable as they are, return a sense of comforting familiarity to my life. My dad worried about me most of all, his whole life. His youngest. The little girl who chose to run down the slide instead of safely sliding down, so I know he'd be comforted to see me slowly adjusting to life after his death. As my friend, Chadwick, wisely said in January, it's time to move forward. So I do. We all do. 

Meanwhile, Dad is everywhere, with all of us and we're always reminded of him. His ashes rest atop the mantle on my fireplace because his most favorite place was with us. 

I'm especially nostalgic when I walk Charlie. My dad used to walk Charlie to the ballpark near my house every day at noon, but he couldn't walk very fast, so Charlie would adjust his pace and walk slowly beside him. My neighbor, Greg, thought it was so sweet to see them walking because everyone in the neighborhood knows Charlie to be a...well, let’s say, an exuberant walker. Luckily, Charlie is so gentle and intuitive and understood my dad's physical limitations. If he could only pass the CGC test, he'd make a great service dog! 

So, every night after work, I take Charlie for a long walk. We cut through the ballpark on the way home and pass by a bench. I am drawn to this bench. I can’t explain it except to say that lately, for some reason, when I approach this bench, I can very clearly see my dad sitting there, legs crossed, one arm swung casually over the back, waiting for us. When I get closer, I can almost hear him say, “Hi, Kiki.”  

So, now I stop and sit on the bench for a few minutes and talk to my dad as the sun is setting. Sometimes, Charlie climbs up on the bench and sits quietly beside me. On a side note, my neighbors probably think I’m crazy.

Thank you for reading! 

Love, 

Katie