While I don't usually treat this blog like a journal, I have something on my heart so indulge me for today.

Dear Diary,

I went for a run this morning...it seems that every time I do, I find myself thinking of Dad. Maybe it's the music on my iPod, or maybe it is the fact that he's the reason I started running in the first place.

Or maybe, just maybe, it is the sailboats. You see, God has given me a special gift, a sign of reassurance, since that first day of running at the beach. I always see a lone sailboat out on the water. It's not always the same one, but it doesn't matter. It is hard to explain how I knew that first time-that it was there for me-feeling a stillness within that could only come from my Creator, a peace come upon me as the boat sailed across the horizon. It is funny, because my dad didn't sail or even live near the water. I just find comfort in seeing that beautiful vessel, floating freely. I cannot touch it, or climb aboard...but it is there. And then it sails out of my site line, but I know it is still out there...

And maybe it is that the last weeks with my dad went so quickly, and I hardly believe he is truly gone. We weren't always very close and the recent distance in miles made it even harder to see one another. So I find myself thinking of our last times together-gaps were bridged and only unconditional love remained. So I cling to the last memory I have of us together in the hospital room, as I touched his head through a latex glove, and removed my mask for the first time to give him a real kiss on the cheek. And I said, "Okay Dad, see you Monday. I love you."

When Monday morning came and as I gathered my things to head over to the hospital, and I got that phone call, I immediately mourned for the loss of a hope I had been holding onto...a longing for just a few more memories to be created-in what little time I had imagined we might have left with him. And I was touched so deeply, holding my daughter tightly as she patted my chest and said, "It's okay, Mommy. I'm here." But it hurt, oh how it hurt, dear Diary.

I suppose I think of him during this time because I can. Running focuses me. I can be a bit flighty at times, my mind in a hundred different places at once-thoughts of my little one, my grocery list, unfinished projects around the house. But when I run, with my heart pounding in my chest, my legs pumping, my eyes narrowed ahead...I am moving forward. Everything else is behind me. Today I wipe away the sweat and the tears that have mixed in with the rain, and I am thankful. My mind is uncluttered and I can pray or think of someone special, or just enjoy the world around me. Yeah, I'm still running...And I'm still healing...And I'm still missing you, Dad.