The Last Vmail

So, before going to Paul's this morning I sat down on my bed, put my phone on speaker and listened to the last voicemail.

It wasn't what I thought it would be.  I hadn't listened to it previously because I'd expected it to be angry, or hostile, or ... something unpleasant.  It was an ordinary message where he started off, "Erin... It's Tuesday at X time..." and on into the message.  He sounded 99% normal, his normal speech pattern, I just didn't really know what he was referring to.  He even said in it that it was no biggie and that we would talk about it at another time.  I feel confident in saying that we didn't.  (That week, last year, I had found a small bottle of hair spray in his refridgerator and was working very hard to get him to go to the doctor.) I believe that he was using an incorrect word although I really don't want to characterize it that way.  In Alzheimers, people can substitute one word for another as though they are synonyms, but they may not be.  In the message, he repeatedly advised me to watch for "debts" coming in the mail because the company they were coming from was doing things differently.  I believe he meant bills.  Whatevs.  No judgment.

Dear Brother was not home for this so I sent him a text about it.  When we get together to record it, I need to explain the context so he doesn't think it's about my debt from last year.  Context is so important.

Anyway.  I listened to it, felt satisfied when it was over, appreciate it, and after it's recorded I'm going to delete it.  I don't feel stressed now.  The last four days have been rough.  I'm going to attempt to relax again.

SuperBowl and Super Old Vmail

I have, just this moment, decided what to do with the voicemail still on my phone, unlistened to, from my dad on February 9, 2010.  I'm going to listen to it on the 9th, let dear brother record it, and then.... let it go.   

Today is the SuperBowl, and it too is an emotional day.  My dad loved football and the SuperBowl.  I like to think he would've rooted for the Packers, but he could have gone either way.  I personally hate the Steelers, and am glad my reverse psychology mindtrick worked on them again this year.  (Thank God.)  I just felt sad that Dad wasn't here to see the game.  When the horse races are held later in the year, I will feel the same way again.  I really enjoyed our rituals on these occasions.

Paul noticed my moodiness.  I'm always surprised when he notices; he catches these things more often that not.  I guess, being 35 now, my face probably gives away my emotions more than I realize.  I'm glad we have each other.

I'm glad I have this place to dump my emotions when reflection gives way to despair.  I have employed some positive coping skills, and have recognized some fallacious thoughts at times, and I know I am doing okay.  Sometimes I just really miss him.

I was thinking the other night about his clothes and shoes.  At some point, will we box them up?  Give them to Goodwill?  Put them in boxes?  If so I know we will keep the bear charm.  I wonder when we will do this.  I will be okay when we do.  He is not his clothes.  Maybe we will keep some things.  G Moss kept her hubby's clothing for a VERY long time, and never actually disposed of his cologne or other toiletries.

Oh hey.. Masterpiece Theatre is running a biographical show on Alistaire Cooke.  I remember riding in the car with dad, near the B Mall, when it was announced on the radio that Cooke had died.  I'm going to watch this... I would watch it anyway, but it appeals particularly in light of my mood.  Dad even made a reference to the Muppet, Alistaire Cookie.  Dad loved biography and always encouraged us to read the histories of great people.  Blah blah blah.... off to watch.  For dad and for me. Seems like a fitting thing to do after the SuperBowl.

I love you, Dad.  I miss you.