too many to count

Today was the monthly grief support group meeting. Mama always asks me to go with her. I think she knows that I don’t have a problem with talking about my feelings and that takes some of the pressure off of her. Almost the entire time daddy was sick mama was like a ticking bomb. For an outsider it would probably go unnoticed. I saw it though. She was afraid to laugh because it almost always ended with a choked sob. Any emotion that was even a bit on the extreme side would usually end with tears. Her explanation was that she held such a tight grip on her emotions that they sort of "seeped out".   Looking back I find it odd that laughter brought mama tears and would leave daddy choking and gasping for air. The strange thing is that it ALWAYS did that, even before he got sick. I also find it strange that they both seemed to laugh a lot when I was with them. Maybe I was comic relief. 
Today my niece Megan and my daughter Lauren went with us to the meeting. Lauren has been having a tough time lately. After a particularly volatile situation with her daddy Lauren told me through tears that the whole "thing" is messed up without PeePaw. We’ve all been feeling that. I thought maybe the support group would help her. Megan is going through much the same thing. We all had very different relationships with him but we are all missing the same man.
Mama talked a bit more than usual today, shed a few tears. The aching loneliness she feels is palpable. There was a new lady in the group today. She was a fragile elderly lady, stoop shouldered with snow white hair. She lost her husband just a few weeks ago. Her tears were very near the surface and needed no prodding to make an appearance. Her grief was like another presence in the room. I invited her to Thanksgiving and to which she replied, "Why you are just the sweetest thing. Thank you so much, but no thank you. I just don’t want to face a holiday without him." I can understand that. I gave her mama’s phone number "just in case". She smiled and said, "In case it gets to be too much?" Mama said she hopes that the sweet lady phones but knows that she probably won’t. 
Neither Lauren nor Megan talked much. In fact it seemed like Megan was rendered mute upon entering the room. Lauren talked a bit but the tears got the better of her and she sat quietly for the rest of the meeting. We talked about "Allie" (our friend’s baby) and how we try to get her every day for a few hours. It is a high light of both our days. My husband shakes his head and warns us against becoming too attached. It’s too late for that! It is easy to focus on her toothless smiles and tiny fingers and toes. She has us practically standing on our heads in our attempts to coax one of those delightful gummy smiles into making an appearance. My husband might be shaking his head but the whole time he is holding her hand, talking in a goofy voice or nuzzling her neck. It really does force you to focus outside yourself even if it is only for two or three hours. 
My brother phoned the other night and said that he wanted us all to think of something we are especially thankful for this year. He knows that this holiday season will be especially difficult for us all as it is the first one without daddy. He said he wanted me to go first as I am the oldest child and usually don’t have a problem coming up with something to say. I will have to remember to smack him one for that when I see him. I have thought about it. I am always thankful for God’s love, my country, family and friends. I am thankful for good health, for me and my family. I am thankful for a comfortable house and enough food to eat. This year I will focus on what I am thankful for in regards to my daddy, things that made him uniquely "my daddy".
* The smell of Hall’s cough drops and Vick’s salve almost year round because of his allergies. "Smell good" when he wanted to smooch mama, usually Aqua Velva aftershave.
*The softness of his hands even though he worked hard doing manual labor his whole life. I remember nicks, cuts and even bruises but mostly I remember how soft they felt when I held his hand.
*The way he would use any available kid as a "prop" by placing his hand on top of our head and walking beside us. You learned to keep pace with him so that he didn’t fall.
*Listening to him talk. Daddy was a very smart man and could talk about almost any subject. Sometimes he would tell the same story over and over (the kids would roll their eyes but still listen) but he always acted like it was the very first time. He would become very animated and use his hands to gesture. 
*Hearing him pray. He was a very humble man.
*The way he would try to take care of me when I was sick. He was a world champion "orchestrator". If he couldn’t physically do it himself you had better believe he would get someone to do it.   He stayed awake most of the night with me when I was in labor with Lauren, watching me walk back and forth through his room. He would ask me every so often, "You okay?" Just knowing that someone was awake, that I wasn’t alone, made me feel better. 
*The crazy nicknames that he came up with for all of us. Mine was "Curly" which is fairly tame. Ben’s is so long that it became a running joke. Daddy was one of the few that could actually remember all of it. 
*His open giving spirit. He would do anything for anybody. He just wanted to help.
*The goofy way he acted. Since he was missing part of his pelvis he was able to do things with his "bad" leg that would be difficult, if not physically impossible, for anyone else. He was famous for picking that leg up and literally propping it up on his shoulder without missing a beat in the conversation.
*The way he couldn’t wait for one of his "babies" (grandchildren) to be placed in his arms. Daddy would sit in the recliner with the baby resting on his chest, patting their diaper, until the little one gave up the fight and went to sleep. I can still see him. He would always place his nose right at the crown of their tiny head, so he could breathe in that lovely "baby smell". 
*The way he looked at mama. He depended on her for everything.  He truly loved her. To him she was always "Princess Margaret".
*His unique organizational skills. He had bottles, boxes and envelopes filled with countless things that had no real value to anyone but him. It looked like a holy mess but if you asked him where something was he could tell you exactly where to find it. He was also famous for coming into my kitchen (while I was sleeping) and "organizing" my pantry. It was frustrating knowing that I would have to phone him to find out where the ketchup or salt was on that particular day. Now I would give just about anything to have him in my house.
*He ruled the television in our house. I grew up watching a LOT of detective shows and westerns. If he didn’t like it you could forget watching it. But every once in a while something would come on that I REALLY wanted to see. I remember a few times that he actually let me stay up way past my bedtime to watch an Elvis movie. I still remember how thrilled I was. He could have told me "No" and made me go to bed but he didn’t.
*He climbed a ladder in a thunderstorm just to get my cat out of a tree. He had a hard time walking and had absolutely no business attempting to climb a ladder. He did that for me. 
*The collusion between us (just him and me) during the holidays. We had a sort of secret society. He always wanted to get something nice for mama but couldn’t maneuver through crowded shops very well. He would slip money into my pocket and whisper what he wanted me to buy. He wouldn’t relax until it was under the tree.
*The way his voice would soften when he said "I love you too".
 
My cup truly runneth over. I have been so blessed.