I woke up this morning and thought, "I'm just done with this." Meaning this situation with my dad. It's been a hard year.
I remember when I was in labor with my daughter and a time arose where I just wanted to yell, "Stop the presses!" Or something like that. "Can we quit now?" But there was no quitting (thank God) and there is no quitting now. Labor - whether it's about being born into this life or being born into whatever is next - moves in its own sweet time. And I do mean sweet. Because it really is all perfect. My dad must be doing some important work during this time of drawing in.
And after my early morning feeble attempts at quitting something that is unquittable (can't find that word in the dictionary, but it's definitely Googlable and I like it), Mr. CFP told me about his dream last night where our wonderful Buddha dog came to visit him. And I find that I miss Buddha so much. A part of me wants to yell, "Stop the presses! Can we just go back to a time when I could kiss my Buddha's sweet cheek and smell his doggy paws???" But missing... it's perfect, too. Like labor, the grief moves in its own sweet time.
I'm definitely experiencing some sadness today, but feelings are like a big pot of vegetable soup. Within the broth of complete fine-ness, there is a little sadness, a bunch of wonder at the beauty of the white snow outside my window, a pinch of curiosity about what is next, and some chopped up motivation to get some stuff done around here today. Oh, and big hunks of gratitude for this amazing life and the beautiful people in it.
I just can't quit any of it. And that's okay.