Well, physically I am in my living room, sitting in my favourite easy chair with my feet resting on its matching ottoman. The sun is pouring in through the window, a warm breeze coming through the just cracked window. I am sipping (as opposed to gulping) a most excellent cup of coffee. My father is visiting, but he's still adjusting to time zone changes so he's not up yet. It will be a fun visit, although he doesn't have a clue just how much fun I actually have planned for him. For one thing, this is the first time in four years that my father will have my attention during a visit. I usually work while he is here, even when I take days off. The last time he was here he made a snippy comment about my always being on my Blackberry, and I took note. As I have blogged about on earlier occasions, up until I hit the wall with a thunderous crash a couple of months ago, I had a serious problem with work/life balance. I am beginning to see that my problem with working too much was largely self-created, although the environment I work in clearly contributed. I can only take care of my end of the silliness. I have an amazing therapist, and am making good progress.
Where am I emotionally? I am quite looking forward to a well-hatched scheme that will surprise my father this Thursday. My Baby Sister (I've blogged about her too) is flying in on Thursday night for the Royal Wedding. My dad doesn't know this, but he will be tickled pink. All of his children are scattered across this continent so he rarely gets to spend time with more than one of the four of us at a time. This will only be the second time that my sister, father and I have been together in about six years. My dad is 80. These moments matter. We will drink tea and watch William and Kate get married, and then spend a few days playing tourist and introducing Baby Sister to my lovely town. So happiness here, in anticipation of a father-daughters weekend. I just hope we don't give him a heart attack when she walks in on Thursday night.
My heart is also somewhat heavy. Tomorrow is my mother's death date anniversary. I don't remember ever having my father around on the anniversary of her death. It's often (well, always) a difficult day for me. And I don't want to make it difficult for him. I am not sure how he marks it, or if he does. I am sitting here crying just thinking about how hard it will be for me not to cry tomorrow. Crap.
And finally, I feel a little guilty because I was a bit bitchy to my two daughters last night. I say "a bit" because they were being a tad annoying and pushing my buttons on purpose. I am very rarely bitchy with them, although I am probably a lot of other things such as "bossy," and "controlling," and the like. Still. I know they will forgive me, as I forgive them. But in case they have difficulty, here is a YouTube video I found on forgiveness that I quite love. As I love them.
So, where I am today. Grateful. Hopeful. Excited. Sorry. Sad.
It's bound to be a good day. Hope yours is too.
