I had to hem the pair of slacks that I'm going to wear to church tomorrow. This is a challenge for me. Put a tennis racket in my hand or a piano beneath my fingers, I can do pretty well, but a needle and thread baffles me. I went up to Mom's sewing room, which, like most of the house, is exactly as she left it. The scraps from the burnt orange skirt she was hemming at Thanksgiving are right where she left them. I used the needle that still held the remainder of the burnt orange thread she used. There's no escaping she's gone or dreaming she'll come back. When I'm in my own home, it's possible to forget for awhile, but for Dad the emptiness is always here. He's never been one to venture far from home, and if it wasn't for Mom, he may very well have ended up like his mother and never left Butler County. He usually goes out for a few hours several days a week, but the void is always here when he returns. It's beginning to wear him down. I've tried several times to convince him to come to my house for Easter weekend or at least on the weekend my daughter goes to her first Prom later next month. All he says is, "I'll think about it." Not as many people come to visit him anymore. I don't know if it's b/c there are so many reminders of Mom in this house, but I had hoped w/ the warmer weather that more people would take just a few minutes to drop in and visit. It doesn't take long to make someone's day. He's feeling very alone. Each time I come back for a weekend, he has something more to add about what he wants for his funeral. He's ready to go whenever God calls him, and I think he's praying for a call any day now.
All this from hemming a pair of slacks, and I didn't even do a descent job.
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