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.