There was a moment yesterday when I popped onto the website for the dealership where I bought my car and started to look at their inventory. I started to peek through the cars looking for an inexpensive little sporty vehicle that would have great mileage. I paused. I don't want a car. I love my car. Why am I ... That's when it hit me. I used to always just keep an eye out for something for my dad. After his car broke down, he didn't need a new car because both Marlene and I each had cars, and between the three of us, two cars were more than enough, so he never replaced it. But I knew that it would make him happy to have his own again. So I kept feeds in my google reader for postings, and occasionally checked out the dealership where I got my car. I closed the site and went back to work, but I still feel very strangely about it.
I wonder for how much longer I will go on occasionally forgetting that he isn't here.