I spent the years caring for my Father – and compartmentalized myself.
All the things I enjoyed. All the things I loved to do. I placed them in a box.
And when they tried to scratch their way to the surface I ignored them.
Or drowned them.
And now with my Father gone I have new habits.
The old ways of going places and spending time away from home are memories.
Perhaps with time I can find the way to break it all down. To open the box back up.
I thought it would be easy. I thought it would just happen. This returning to my old life thing.
But nothing has been easy.
And I feel his absence more as each day goes by.