Missing him

I'm missing Pat tonight. All the planning is in high gear for his picnic. The posters are beautiful if I do say so myself. PIP Printing donated them and our tickets.

But right now, in this moment, I don't want to plan a damn thing. I want to call Patrick up and invite him over for a few drinks and cards. I want to see him take silly pics of himself and Dylan and Lierin on my laptop. I want to hear him call me Heff-ener. I want to tease him and call him Fatty O'Furniture. I don't want to bring a flower to his grave or see a shamrock with the number 11 in it. I don't want to hang posters, sell tickets or look for a silver lining. I don't want to find meaning in giving gifts and raising money.

I want to hear his laugh today. His deep voice. I want to see the scar on his cheek and his tattoos. I want him to call my sister, my mom and dad and stop over after work. I want to plan his wedding. I want to see him lift my sons over his head and hear them laugh their little heads off. I want to jump into my sister's pool and do flips and handstands and see who can stay under longer. I want to send him a message on Facebook and get a response back.

I don't want to find little signs or hear a song on the radio. I don't want a white feather in my path or a penny on the floor. I don't want to dream about him and know he is gone. I want the lightness back that I felt on October 29, 2008 and let go of the pain that found me the next day.

Tonight, I'm picking up the bag of grief I thought I had put down. And tonight, I'm listening to Irish music and blogging this because honestly, I just don't know what else to do.


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I'm sorry Kate. I know that you're reading this and it probably really fricking sucks... but its just all I got right now. Tonight, I'm just no wanting/able to smile through.