Ouch. Guilt.

Today I was around the house ... making sure some things that mom had mentioned got done. I decided to even make something to eat cause I thought it'd be nice to have something done.

Well, she cried. Its all still too fresh. She mentioned how nice it was to have someone meet her at home. Which makes me feel guilty cause I can't. And I love this lady a lot ... a lot.

Didn't help that when she got home on the service bus, she introduced me to the bus driver. She said "Oh, I know ... he looks like his father."

I made dinner for the two of us. Some black beans and rice (bacon added for flavor) and some leftover pork. 

Later last night, we did the night prayers she so loves. Even with yawning as much as she did, cause she is exhausted after work, we got through it all.

She loves to give and not think about things. But once in a while something breaks through. Its still fresh. Its been what? Almost 7 months?

And something did.

Her emotions affect her much more than she'd admit. She woke up feeling bad this morning.

Which makes me feel bad for her. So many little things to do around the house. I want to do them and help her. But I don't want to leave her alone.

Guilt is oh so much fun.

Six months ... and baseball.

Its been six months since dad died. I will say that it hasn't been the toughest but, there are times ... like waves ... they come ... the feelings, the lump in the throat, the watery eyes ... when I do miss him.

And I do miss him.

I miss being able to talk baseball with him. With A-Rod doing all his crazy stuff ... Oh, dad and I would have eaten that up.

I miss sharing all the good things that have happened to me ... the trip to Seattle, the leadership at school. I know Dad would be proud. And I need to hear that or feel that once in a while, specially my dad's.

I miss hearing him cough ... although lately when I cough I hear him. I miss hearing his sneezes, he had the LOUDEST sneezes anywhere.

A few weeks ago, I was listening to NPR, as I do every morning to wake me up, and they started talking about the World Series and who would go, what the teams were like ... and I lost track of what else because the lump in my throat got to be a bit tough to just swallow it down and move on.

Is it possible to feel someone who's moved on by you? Well, I did. My dad was next to me. My dad was right there next to me. I felt his presence just next to my shoulder.

I really wished I could have talked with him about it. About the teams, why the Yankees did not do well this year, what the hell is up with A-Rod ... and I know he would have had some amazing words about all of it. Dad had the history down, he knew all the facts and the reasons for things.

I know not many people think of baseball as America's sport. Others think it slow and boring. Others think it needs to taken out to pasture.

Not me. It reminds me of my dad, of a slow and careful pace, of a life full of wisdom and care ... of a man who, in his own way, taught me how to be a man, a mechanic, a team player ... so much.

I miss you dad.