Forgive Me, Father ……

…… for I have failed to blog in a timely fashion.
And it’s been several decades since my last confession.
As a matter of fact, I’ve never gone to confession.
Well, not in a Catholic sort of way.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks since my last post.
I went to San Diego and had a nice time just hanging with Jim’s brother and his family. We didn’t do much, just hung out by the pool, played with my niece, watched some TV and made numerous trips to the grocery store.
It was a nice few days.

And then I went to the hotel 2 days before Camp Widow West to help out where needed. There were several campers already ensconced in their lovely rooms, hanging out by the pool and tending bar.
Well, maybe not so much tending, as drinking.

By Thursday afternoon you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a widowed person at the Marriott.
(Where in the heck did that saying come from?? And does anyone else see the irony? 🙂

Camp started off bright and early Friday and continued to run smoothly through the weekend.
I saw “old” friends. Which was terrific.
I made new friends. Which was great.
I shed tears. Which was ok.
I laughed.
A lot.
Which was so very wonderful.

It’s always an emotional week for me.
Being with Jim’s brother, watching our niece, is nice …… and yet sad.
I always think that he should be there, visiting with them, sharing memories with his brother.
It’s always a happy/sad time.

As is Camp.
It’s wonderful to see returning campers …… and to notice how much they’ve changed over the year.
Their smiles come quicker.
Their laughs are fuller.
Their eyes contain light where there was only dark last year.

It’s hard, but also good, to see brand new campers.
Their smiles are slow to show themselves.
Their tears are quick to fall.
Their pain is spilling out of them.
And while it’s difficult to escape the memories that their presence calls to mind, it’s so very good to be able to hug them and let them know they’re not alone.
And not as crazy as they thought.

It was the best camp yet.

The best part of it was that Daughter #3 came to volunteer her time has an interpreter for the two deaf widows who came this year.
She had never interpreted before, and was pretty nervous about the whole thing, but she did a wonderful job. I loved just standing back and watching her.
She shared not only her passion for the deaf community, but her heart. And her experiences as a daughter whose father died.
I was, and am, so very proud of her.
And I missed her immensely the night I said good bye to her before her flight the next morning.
And still do.

I really don’t enjoy the Sundays of camp.
Ninety nine percent of the campers leave that day.
So we say good bye.
I don’t like good byes.
I never really did, but now I hate them.
Depression always settles in around my shoulders on that Sunday.
I miss all of my friends.
And I miss Jim.

It takes a couple of days to shrug off that depression.
It’s certainly not as heavy as it used to be, thankfully.
Mostly everyone experiences it after camp.
We call it “Camp Crash”.
It sucks, but there are worse things.

So now I’m back in Texas. It’s good to be around the boys. Son #3 will be going back to school in just a few weeks.
Son #2 is still in school and it appears that may never end.
I jest.

I’m trying to catch up on things here.
Like unpacking, laundry, signing my newly-updated will (ugh), trading in my too-large car for a smaller one, grocery shopping, paying bills …… you know, all things fun.
Only not so much.

I need to find some friends.
I need to find some way to get involved here.
Ironic, since I’ve lived here for 20+ years and used to have more friends than I could count.
But life moves on.
As do people.

So I’ve got to come up with a plan.
Other than heading to NY. Which I can’t do until the end of September, unless I just throw caution to the wind and tempt the fates NY IRS.
Which I totally might.

So that’s it from this state.
Now I’ve got to get a load of clothes out of the dryer and one into the washer.
Duty calls.

Happy Thursday/Friday.

1 thought on “Forgive Me, Father ……

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