You passed away on December 1, 2008. I had just driven back down to school the night before. After only 24 hours away from home, I was on a plane. I stayed the whole week. Many friends came by and gave us many things. Flowers, food, cards. One of my best friends gave me a rice bag. I used it every day. It gave me comfort and literal warmth. It was my safety. Mom said that the smell of rice would forever be a part of my smell. I slept with it, I warmed it up when we were going out, I had it on my lap when I ate. When it started to get warm in St. George I was sad. I wanted an excuse to use it and cuddle up with it.
Today I made a rice sock. It reminded me of that. The smell of rice and the warmth of it against my skin. I miss you, Dad. It's hard thinking that you won't "be there" when I get home from the airport, and that I won't be able to see you, but I know you're there and I know you're even here sometimes. That's where the rice sock comes in. It's my reminder that you're here and that you're near and still love me. I love you, Dad.
That August of Yesteryear
1 year ago