Yesterday I got back from a trip home. Although I love going home and always have a great time, there is a feeling of bittersweetness when I do now. Even last weekend I expected Shemp to run up to meet me at the door and for Dad to be sitting in his recliner. It's hard when I settle in and realize how quiet the house is now. It just feels different. The first few times I went home since Dad died I didn't notice it as dramatically. Maybe my head wasn't in the right place, or maybe it just seemed like one of the times I went home and he was in the hospital. This time, however, was noticeable for some reason.
At the same time I still feel his presence. The house is still comforting and filled with more love than any house I've ever stepped foot in. It still has that same calming effect it always had, the one that made Allison come for a week in the summer and then decide to stay until the fall.
When mom went to bed and Joe wasn't home from work yet, it seemed like there were two different forces present. It was quiet, but not lonely. Even if I couldn't ignore the fact that Dad and Shemp were not there, I could still feel the comforting love that always occupied that house.
Like most things in my life now, it left me with conflicting feelings of joy and sadness. Now, if I could just focus more on the joy we'd be in good shape.
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