I've been thinking about doing something for a few months now, and today is the day. Today, I erased the seven voice messages from my father off my answering machine. And as soon as I get in my truck, I am going to remove and throw away the hospital parking ticket that is sticking out from under the band on my visor, which I got the day that he died.
It's not that I don't want to remember my father. Thing is, every time I saw the number "7" on the message indicator on my answering machine, it made me sad. Every time I saw that stupid hospital parking ticket on my visor, it made me sad and angry.
My dad would not have wanted me to be sad and angry every time I think of him. And so I am cleansing my life of the negative, and I will remember him as he was - funny, laughing, smiling, and just wanting everyone to have a good time already.
Nothing, anyway - no ticket stub, no saved voicemail - will bring him back. And that's something I have to face.
7 comments:
Well done. You're doing the right thing and you'll feel the difference emotionally. Lift that weight off.
Well then... I suppose I will have to summon up the courage to remove him from my contacts... I must face the fact that I will never receive a call from him, and will never place a call... so, once my eyesight isn't blurry, and I can see clearly... I will get right on that..
(sigh)
Sad. Everyone has their own time to do these things. I like the photo of him.
His name was Pete, and he loved getting his picture taken in front of boats and businesses that had his name on it - it was one of his "things". This particular diner is right in the town I live in.
It's all a moving on process and you do it in your own time. My Dad also died last year and it took me ages to change the e-mail contact name to just my Mum's. I think the phone still has both their names programmed in. Now we've got some of his paintings on the wall though and we remember him happily through those all the time.
Oh, hugs and sighs to you. I think you're right to do it though. That way you can remember all the fun things about him, like his Pete pictures, instead of having your heart sink like a stone every time you come home.
Today I dipped into your blog for the first time (via Anna's blog), and found this poignant post. Strangely enough it was only yesterday that I deleted Elaine's phone number from my speed dials, but have still to pluck up courage to delete a couple of texts from her family with updates sent during Elaine's last day. You have given me the courage to do it. Please accept my condolences on your loss. (One of these days I'll get around to writing properly to you.)
Post a Comment