Good Morning, Dad!
I don’t know. I just really don’t know. I keep thinking of how on earth I’m going to transition this blog into a crafty/touring/random life stuff blog, and I have no idea how to do it. And I guess I’m not QUITE ready, really. Tomorrow will be three weeks since you passed and now things are getting tricky. Like it all feels so much deeper. I’ve never been good at compartmentalizing, but I’m starting to understand the importance of such a skill, and I’m working on it, and getting pretty decent at it, I must say. I guess the “my dad died” compartment gets full a lot of the time though. And then the flood gates open. I woke up this morning looking like I had been punched in the face. And feeling like it, too.
And this past week. ugh. I keep having all these anxiety dreams and mild panic attacks. I didn’t think I even had the ability to have these things. I thought it wasn’t part of my Elkin make up. As it turns out, it IS possible for me to feel enormous amounts of fear and anxiety. Every time the phone rings, I fear the call will be about someone I love dying. And these nights are so restless. And I’m walking around in a fog. In circles. But I always want to be doing something, because when I stop, I think, and when I think, I cry. I tried to play music for the first time since your passing and I couldn’t get through 10 seconds of a song without having a melt down. This weekends festival is going to be interesting, huh? I’m gonna do it though. I’m headed to The Woody Guthrie festival with a bunch of my pals to “get back on that horse and ride”. I’m scared to death. I’ve never been afraid to step in front of an audience, and for the first time ever, the thought makes me sick.
I missed you on the 4th. I remember sitting between your legs as a little girl and you would cover my ears because I didn’t like the noise.
And now, my beautiful community of friends keep asking me what I need. They keep asking what they can do for me. And I just don’t know. I wish there was something I could tell them. But all I can say is it’s nice when they check in. I think it’s because what I need is to have you back, and although I have the most beautifully powerful friends, I’m pretty sure none of them can do that. Right? Wait, can anyone do that? Text me if you can….
I do want to thank you, dad, for your birthday joke. I was actually excited to receive your ashes on your big day. It made sense. I decided to wait to open them until later in the evening and what happened?? Oh, I think you already know. But I’ll remind you. THEY SENT THE WRONG ONES! THEY SENT THE WRONG PERSON’S ASHES! OMG. I couldn’t even get mad. I was laughing so hard. In response to the whole episode, I just kept asking myself,”What Would Rich Do (WWRD)?” I find myself doing that in all kinds of situations. You would have been so kind and gentle, so that’s what I was. And it worked. I got free shipping! HA!
On a crafting front, I’m taking an online embroidery class. It’s meditative. And sweet. And good for me. Plus, I can take projects on the road! If you were still around, I’d make you something that you would have hung on your “Carrie wall of fame”. I always made fun of that wall. Taking that stuff down from your room was not easy, I must say.
On the house front, I have been painting away in the back house. AND IT IS CUTE. I also refinished a piece of furniture that’s been hanging out in our woodshed for, oh……FOUR YEARS (Paul, it’s a good thing you guys moved out, because there would be no storage space for your drums now that the cupboard thing has been painted!). And we put a new ceiling fan in, too. I’m getting ready to make some curtains. I need to start photographing this stuff. Mental note. Photograph stuff.
On the fertility front. Well, this topic we’re keeping a bit more private to the whole world, but after miscarrying your last would be grandkid, we’re moving forward with things again. HORMONES INCLUDED! I shouldn’t make light of such a thing, but really, and REALLY, there’s no other way to get through these totally shitty and overwhelming two months without shaking my head and laughing. Note to self…..do not wait until you’re 41 to have a kid. Oh wait, we totally screwed that one up. eh. We’ll be fine. Today’s hormone injection was only a two on a pain scale of one to ten. Things are looking up.
And now. I should go make myself busy because my heart hurts. I miss you, dad. I called your voice mail just to hear your voice say your own name….you’ve reached the voicemail of “RICH ELKIN”!
And I’m gonna attach some photos here that I found when going through your things. One is of you in 1965 when you were in Guantanamo Bay during the Cuban Missile Crisis (BAD ASS). One is of you and Rick and me at a picnic in Squires Castle where the Hells Angels used to hang out and you would make friends with them. And one is of you and me on my first day of school. Pretty cute.
I love you so much. And my heart is broken. I guess this is what it feels like, huh? A broken heart.