a soggy mess

A late evening storm has arrived. The rain is steadily pounding at the roof, lashing at the sides of the house. Inside we are cozy and dry. Well dry for the most part. I made the mistake of watching a movie that always makes me cry. I know it is beyond silly and my children tease me unmercifully about it.
The tears were a bit too eager to make an appearance. I have been having a bit of a rough time lately. Part of it is just your garden variety exhaustion. I am still watching over mama, making sure she doesn’t do anything silly. She has been released to drive (if she is so inclined) but still can’t lift anything weighing more than five pounds. Goodness her purse weighs more than that!
I always seem to hit a sort of wall when the kids go back to school. I worry about their grades and they don’t. I worry about their behavior and they basically do what they are going to do anyway. I do believe their philosophy is, "Do it and if you get caught then worry about it".
I have been having a more difficult time this year. I feel a growing sense of panic. I try not to dwell on it, to follow my kids example. If I don’t think about it then it will surely go away. So far it hasn’t. The calendar and the clock are my enemies. I have resolved to ignore them both unless it is "bill day".
The air is getting cooler. Football season is in full swing. October is getting closer and closer. Michael is scheduled to deploy on October 17. I am so proud of him that there are no words to express it. I am also scared to death of losing him. When I say it out loud people sigh and rub my back a time or two and change the subject.
I KNOW that God loves him more than I do and that there is a purpose for Michael’s life. I also know that I can’t protect him even if I am standing right beside him. Knowing it doesn’t make it any easier.
I’ve also really been missing my daddy. He is constantly in my thoughts. A few days before mama’s surgery something strange happened. I had been sleeping (which is beyond strange in and of itself but that is another story) very soundly.
My arms and legs felt heavy, almost like I was tucked in under one of my grandmother’s quilts. Those things were so heavy that there was no "tossing and turning". Once you were tucked in that is where you stayed! The room was dark but not oppressively so. I could see the shadowy outline of the dresser and armoire.  The moonlight spilling into the room provided just enough light for me to know that I was in my bedroom.
I reached out and my fingers brushed against my husband’s shoulder. My heart had been beating very fast but just confirming that he was there beside me brought a sense of comfort.
I tried to figure out what had caused me to wake so suddenly. Then I heard it again, like someone had it "replay". I heard, "Suzanne". It was as if someone wanted my attention. Not an angry demand or a soft plea,just one precise command.
No one ever spoke my name like that except Daddy. If he was teasing me or happened to be in an especially affectionate mood I was "Curly". Casual conversation had him calling me "Susie". If for some reason I didn’t answer the first time then his voice would drop a bit and I became "Suzanne".
I think my heart was pounding so painfully and I felt such a sense of panic because I desperately wanted him to be standing there in the doorway, waiting for me to get out of bed.
I miss the sound of his voice. I really miss the softness of his plain white cotton t-shirt against my cheek when he hugged me. I miss the scent that was uniquely "daddy". I miss the way he sat in the chair in his workshop. I even miss his obsessive attention to detail. He could create such beauty with his hands and yet leave a trail of complete destruction right alongside it. I miss his rusty laugh. I just miss "him".
I wish I could talk to him. I wish I could hug him. I have so many wishes and so many fears that right now they are just a tangled mess. Maybe that is why I heard him calling me. I guess I just needed my daddy.