as many of you know, i often talk to my dad. its usually at night, when i am alone, or before bed. that, or with mom and drew, and we are chatting to him/about him. it had been a pretty hectic week last week, and i found myself talking to him on my way home one night. i was caught in yet another LA freeway traffic jam.
and you know what. i teared up talking to him. as i talked to him, i felt like he was with me. i got all sappy and teary. i find that i am struggling with the dichotomy of loving life, and feeling like "what the fuck is the point"
here is a fucking class act, a thundering example of stellar athlete, father, son, brother, husband and friend. he was gorgeous, ambitious and ungodly amazing. he was a mentor. he was strong. he was all these things and so much more, yet he is gone. what chance does that give the rest of us.
so, i will forever struggle with this. and i will continue to talk to my dad. i will continue to live with his spirit around me at all times. i will do my best. but i will be vulnerable. and confused. and i cant promise that i will ever understand it.
haha, i can just imagine him up there thinking "ohh man, hil, im trying to watch the game"!
haha, just kidding. he was the best. what the hell happened?!??! im in a dream. sundays are for sure the worst...the worlds lazy day. its definitely a tough one to get through.
on that note, i am going to go watch some tv and chill before another week. dad, we'll talk soon :) (haha, about an hour?!)