Two

 It's been two years since my lovely Daddy died. 

I worked at home today. I didn't want it to be just an ordinary day yet. Even though it is. Because it still isn't. 

I'm fine, in that I am not grieving any more than usual. Beloved Husband and my very sweet Mother-in-law are being kind and remembering him. That's thoughtful. The Living do like to acknowledge the Dead, because they are still very much part of our hearts. 

The Dead are only gone when no one thinks of them any longer. 

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I'm weirdly uncomfortable when people are nice to me. 

I almost would prefer that they... not. 

Because then I don't have to wonder why they are being nice, what their ulterior motive is, what they really want from me. Or why they like me in the first place, to warrant being nice.

My general feeling is, people don't interact with me unless they want something from me. That's most of my interactions -- people need me to do something for them, and that's why they reach out in the first place. They wouldn't otherwise. And they generally don't. No one is nice just to be nice. That doesn't happen. 

I might be a little jaded. 

I'm a tiny bit sad for myself that I feel this way.

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Today also happened to be the inauguration. I don't want to talk about that much. 

I will say only this: I am glad that my lovely Daddy did not have to witness it.

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Rest in peace, Daddy. I miss your wit, your quiet calm and your wisdom. I miss your precise memory about all kinds of details, and the way you would weave those details into your stories. I miss your love of math and Sudoku and word puzzles. I miss the way you would take a walk around the block with your walking stick. I miss feeling that someone was looking out for me from afar - it was a warm fuzzy feeling, like your plaid flannel shirts in winter. I miss your presence. 

I miss your phone messages. "Hi [nickname], it's Daddy."  The one I had saved was automatically deleted over time, and I don't have it any more. That's a tragedy. Although I don't know if I could bear to listen to it again, anyway. 

Thank you for everything, Daddy. 

I am doing the best I can. I hope you are proud of me.