It’s the little things
Its funny, the big things that I would expect me to miss Dad don’t. I cruised through his birthday ok and Father’s Day. Every Sunday I sit in his chair and talk to Mom without it affecting me. I use his camera frequently.
It was using his grill at Mom’s that hit me.
When I’d go over for dinner and he’d grill, Mom would send me out to make sure he was ok. He was, and we would shoot the shit about nothing while he worked the grill. This Sunday, when I had the plate of food and pushed open the back door, I felt his absence.
Then, I felt him shoot the shit with me.