03.25.18

Dear Dad,
We are coming up on the last week in this home. The home you last lived in. The home in which you took your last breath. At first the idea of leaving brought me nothing but happiness... but as the days pass I feel a bit conflicted.

I have this thought in the back of my head that when we die, our souls get traped at that location. Ridiculously silly, I know. And I could see you laughing at me for thinking such a thing. As silly as it is, I think a part of me is going to wonder if you're still at the house on North Pitt. Waiting for us all to come home.



Sigh...


After all, I am the person who stopped burning sage because it chases spirits and I wanted you to stay.


I wish I could talk to you about the choice to leave as a whole. Packing us all up to go to Chicago is overwhelming.


You would have loved to see Poppy-Marie and Justin playing in the snow. It's supposed to be spring, but it doesn't feel like it. Not at all.


I am still struggling through therapy. I say struggle because constantly having to explain how I feel is tiring. I get that it's helpful, but some days I just want to crawl under a rock.


Till next time. Love you. Miss you.