I'm sitting at the airport waiting for my flight to Salt Lake and i have to admit I'm scared to death. This will be the first time I've gone back since dad died 2 months ago. I'm so afraid to walk into the house like i always have and find him sitting in his chair watching TV...like he always did. I'm afraid to wake up on the couch where i always slept (even though there were plenty of empty beds) and hearing him say "Hey Bert! How about some waffs?" (short for waffles) He had such a funny way of abbreviating everything. I have a feeling that the reality of his death will finally hit me. I've done pretty well at holding myself together...or at least better than i thought i would. I'm nervous to go to the cemetery and most of all, afraid to break down in front of mom. In spite of the fear of all these things, i am so excited to see my family. I miss them terribly and feel so far away. I think this trip is going to pretty emotional but i'm counting on the happy to outweigh the sad.
I've adopted a new motto for myself and have gone so far as to write it on the inside of wrist every morning at work so i can see it all the time: ODAAT - One Day At A Time