It's been a little over a month since my dad died.
I've been aware of some "big things" that loom on the horizon--his 64th birthday next month that won't be celebrated, his absence at the holidays, the first Father's Day that I don't buy him a card. Big things. I'm aware of the emotional upheaval that can come with the big things.
It's the small things that have caught me off guard though...
Opening the cabinet and noticing this mug that he gave me (and replaced when I broke it).
Scrolling through my contact list in my cell phone and seeing his name.
Watching Razorback football and knowing how much he loved it.
And holding John's book in my hands while realizing that my dad would never hold it, or read it, or have the chance to tell my husband how proud he was of his accomplishment.
The small things.
They have undone me lately.