Each day that passes finds me unable to write anything about my father.
I think about it every day. Things that pop in my head that I just don't want to forget.
Things in that last month. Things he said and did in the hospital. Things I thought as he said and did things.

So many things.

All the animals that keep showing up.

The beagles on the side of the road as my sister, niece, and I travelled to Nashville.
The bird that kept beating itself against my car and then against Dad's cars 2 days after his burial.
The eagle in my dream.
The giraffe and the dinosaur in another dream.
The beagles in yet another dream.

The huge snapping turtle that showed up at Robin's shop and refused to leave for 3 days.

It's strange the little things that set you off at a time like this. The box of Kleenex napkins in my glove compartment. Every time I open the compartment and see them I think about that early morning drive my brother, mother and I made to Louisville on March 27th. Dad left by helicopter (life-flight) on the evening of the 26th. I actually think the helicopter didn't leave until some time after midnight on the 27th. Mom and Jason had been told that if Dad made it at all, he would most likely be severely brain-damaged. I was in Nashville when everything happened to Dad that night, so I packed up my clothes, drive back here, then picked up Mom and Jay. We talked all the way there and just kept trying to keep one another encouraged. I can't remember if Mom was crying or just why Jason asked if I had any Kleenex or napkins, but I told him to look in the glove compartment. He was sitting up front with me and Mom was in the back behind him.

I even had to change the ring on my cell phone. Everytime it would start ringing (after Dad's death) and Mom would hear it, she would just cringe. She would say, "I hear that and all I can think about is how many times it would ring while we were at the hospital through Dad's illness and how many times it was ringing after he died and all the family was calling us at the hospital."

It's just so damn grey here. It's been the darkest, coolest May I can remember. It just makes everything that much sadder. And, it's hard for Mom to get outside and do anything because it's so cool and wet.

I'm tired. I am so very, very tired.