The most normal, everyday things set off the memories...actually it's not the memories necessarily, it's the knowledge of his absence. I was driving back from lunch just now (brought nice healthy soup and some granola bars from home, so naturally I hit the dollar menu at McD's), and I passed a brokedown car for the 2nd time today, on the right as you would exit 95. It's stuck in the bike lane, which isn't a real shoulder, so you have to merge around it just a bit as you drive past. Only one hazard light works, and I have to think that the battery will go soon, since it's been blinking since this morning. If it were me, I would've tied up traffic to try and push the car to the new hotel parking lot, so that there'd be less chance of it getting sideswiped. Probably foolhardy of me...but anyway, this train of thought brought me to Dad naturally, who loved crawling around engines and knew cars inside and out, who was always gently nagging me to watch my tires and get my oil changed. And the thing is, I can and will survive without that nagging...he taught me to change my own oil, and I enjoy looking over engines too, seeing how A plus B makes C run...but the very idea of not having that anymore, that solid person with that knowledge, is terrifying. The panic attack hit rather quickly, the car becoming a vacuum, and I had to swallow down the tears and gasping before heading back into work. It's an elusive thing, the grief...I can go for days at a time presently without it hitting me like that. I think about him everyday, but I'm able to function much more normally lately. Or so I think....it's a flawed gauge, I mean, I was doing fine the other day, but when I got home, I knew not to go anywhere near the new lace projects I started, because it was like asking for screwups.
Now I'm just drained and wishing I had the time to go home and curl up into a ball for a while. I miss him so much. 4 hours to go.