I'm heading home in a couple of days. Back to Texas to attend doctor appointments with my parents, help them pack and sort and store their things so they can move to a smaller house, help my little brother with navigating what to do now that he's graduated and to also make funeral arrangements for my Dad. Our thinking being it's "easier" to make the arrangements before we need them. Just thinking about it makes my stomach hurt. My Dad's birthday is the 17th so I'll just stay until after that, so it's a nice, long visit at that. I'm slightly worried I'm going to lose my mind this trip down. C, of course, can't go so I'll be without my safety net. ::sigh::
It's always on the eve of these long trips back home that suddenly my house seems so hard to leave. My bed is so much more comfortable, my fridge stocked with the yummiest food, there are suddenly projects that I must undertake and I just want to snuggle into my house and never leave. I actually dread the small bed at my inlaws, the cramped shower too. I dread having to leash my dogs every.single.time they need to go out because their yard isn't fenced. I'm not looking forward to the infamous Houston humidity and swamp-like steamy nights. And most of all, I dread having the ever looming thoughts that my time with my Dad is running out. That I better savor every conversation, every hug, every laugh because there's no longer an endless supply of them. There's a limit and it's coming.
This has been the year from hell, one hit after another. And I know that's life but I could really use a freaking break before my head explodes. But, you wanna know something funny? I still keep hoping that something better, something happy, is just around the corner. Maybe, just maybe, God will throw us a freaking bone and we'll have something to remind us that life isn't all doom and gloom.
I hope it happens soon.