Here's one of my new favorite pictures of Johnny. I actually had it printed and began to write a note to my dad on the back of it to send to him in the mail. I knew he would love to put it on his desk at work or carry it around in his car to show all his friends who his son is. That's something that made me so happy, my dad said Johnny was his son. Not son-in-law, "son". My dad told him he was 100% part of the family. I know that was something Johnny feared upon meeting my family and earning their respect, whether or not he would be able to win my dad over. But he didn't even have to do anything, my dad just took him in as his own, no questions asked. My dad even tried Johnny's spicy curry. My dad NEVER eats spicy food, but he did for Johnny.
But I started to write a note to my dad, when I had to stop, realizing he's not at home for me to send it to.
Things like that happen all the time. When we went home for Christmas, I woke up late one morning and went to my parents' bedroom to see how dad was doing. He wasn't in his chair. Because he died 3 months before. I almost call him all the time. His picture and phone number is still on my "favorites" list on my phone.
For a few months, my mom left my dad's wallet, spare change, underwear, and belt out on the bathroom counter just like it was the night before he was gone. We left his Diet Coke cup on the windowsill by his chair. We left the egg sandwich in the fridge exactly as it was. We left everything of his untouched. I remember when we finally threw away the sandwich and threw away that stale cup of Diet Coke. It was hard, it was like admitting that he really wasn't coming back.
I still let myself think he's still here because it makes it easier. But then reality will hit when I can't call him, I can't see him, and I can't find him. That's the hard truth.