Of course, I still get them. I miss him so. I even miss drinking with him-but, I don't miss drinking-just drinking with Daddy. Anything, anywhere with Daddy...this morning, watching "Sunday Morning." I cried deeply missing him...the special on the artist, Harper, and the second special I have seen on this show on "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly."

I saw Daddy here and there (metaphorically) on the show, and my heart got tight, and my breath became labored. My body flushed with heat, from emotions unleashed. My heart felt like it wanted to burst and break at the same time. Hot tears were rolling down my face and from nowhere I was aware of, came the shouted plea, "Oh, Daddy, please make it stop!"

And it stopped. I breathed deeply with relief, and tears became tears of relief, somehow a cooler down-ward flow, still falling but with less urgency. Daddy wouldn't want me to feel all of that pain, and together, I feel, we lessened the pain...all I had to do was ask (yell).

This is not at all what I wanted to blog about today. But, there, you have it. Maybe I will blog more, later. Probably will. I do want to mention what Cecile thought of my lil' backslide into temporary insanity googling the ex...she had a novel view of the whys & where fores of my behavior, but I still like my good friend, John's view of me stepping into something on the side walk, and scraping it off the bottom of my shoe, and then getting on with my life...more later today while Bubba is surrounded by his Super Bowl vibes, and I wander the be-it-ever-so-humble halls, and the backyard(predicted 54 degrees today) with the dogs, read my books, listen to several books on tape & CD that I borrowed from the library (10 items checked out on the afternoon of the diagnosis-beat the heck out of going out and getting drunk & feeling sorry for myself, don't ya, think?

Getting older, maybe getting wiser, and still and always...Daddy's little girl.