Late Night Musings

If the title itself didn't turn you off immediately then maybe it means I am not the only one who has a hard time simply basking in her jumbled thoughts as she lays in bed watching the clock blink ever closer to midnight.

No real updates on the father front. I guess that is good news and bad news.

That is not to say he hasn't been on my mind quite frequently. Pretty much 24/7.

It is going something like this...Stella, Ryan, Dad. Stella, Ryan, Dad. Repeat.

I probably should throw in a finish sorting through Stella's room or a fold the two baskets of laundry that have been sitting on your floor for 4 days now into the mix, but the repeat button just keeps getting pressed.

I really can't go on until I thank all of you (the religious commenters, the ones who simply read, and each and every person outside of the blogging world) who has had and continue to have my sweet dad and our family in your thoughts and prayers.

It means so much to our family and to me in particular.

Praying for peace and comfort and guidance is all any of us can really do. It is how the helpless find solace in tragedy and I know I am feeling rather helpless tonight.

So thanks.

Speaking of the man, the myth, the legend himself; after over 20 years of teaching and coaching the leaders of tomorrow he has hung up his swishy pants (okay, maybe not quite since when he does get dressed up he does it fancy like and sports one of his many athletic sweatsuits) and called it a game.

For as long as I can remember Highland High School was synonymous with my dad. He spent many hours there teaching students the basics of Economics and the proper art of keyboarding, and every once in a while even let me head up to his classroom with him so I could "professionally" type up my latest literary masterpiece. I was/am a little bit nerdy like that.

If he wasn't in the classroom (which changed many times by the way, I distinctly remember helping him move rooms by lugging heavy textbooks and pushing computer chairs through the empty halls of Highland) he could be found on the football field, at the softball diamond, or on the hardwood coaching student athletes in the ways of their chosen sport and teaching them a few life lessons along the way. Sometimes those lessons came as an intense lecture or cut-like-a-knife stare with those piercing blue eyes, but as his daughter I know they were only meant for the better good.

For some reason the thought of my dad no longer working at Highland and doing the things he loved so much has really affected me. I am sure part of it is that it is just another sign that this awful disease seems to be winning, but also because I know he truly loved and respected the many young people he has influenced. Many people are better off because their lives were touched by his and while I am a bit biased I believe this to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt.

* * *

12:03 am. What else seems to be flooding this little brain of mine?

Right, the wedding.

The Wedding you ask?

My dearest, most special cousin is getting hitched a week from today, er yesterday, and instead of being there to see her beautiful self I will be here.

Really, don't' feel bad. I could have stayed a while longer on my last trip home, but as much as I love Annie I love my husband that much more and I think he would have shunned me if I had kept that little gem of a baby away from him any longer.

Point is I am so excited for Andrea and Brandon. I could say it has been a long time coming, but they are probably sick of hearing that one. So instead I will say that they are both two of the best people I know. Each of them have faced trials and decisions more difficult than anything I can imagine, but their love for each other is strong and I know they are going to live happily ever after. Just sad I won't be there to witness the beauty that is going to be their Garden Party reception. Like really if you live in Pocatello you should go just to see a. my aunt and uncle's amazing yard b. the joyous bride and groom (of course) and c. a garden party extravaganza that looks like it up and walked right out of an Anthropoligie catalog.

I love you Andrea Nicole!

* * *

Well I told you the title was a bit foreshadowing. But my head is now clear and I think I will be able to fall right to sleep now. Of course Stella could wake up at any minute and wash that dream right down the drain, but at least that would mean I get to snuggle her a bit more tonight.

For me blogging really is therapy. Complimentary, comfortable, liberating therapy. So don't mind my late night musings too much...they might just make an encore appearance soon!