Shower...

Second shower I've had that I cried for you. I don't understand this new development, Dad. For some reason the hotter the water on my head, the more the emotions come up. I don't know what it is. I was thinking about how you said my name "Sah-Rah", and I had to strain to remember your voice. I got so scared to forget you, and then I was thinking about you in that hospital bed, so sick, and then the thoughts of you dieing.. it all became too much. I could feel it all under the surface, in my chest. With each deep breath I was sucking it up out of myself and into that steamy air.. and then, it started. And I sobbed. And it was like no other cry I have had. Not because of it's intensity, or it's length, just because of where it seemed to come from, and how much of it was just pure grief.

It reminded me of what Zoe said. The meditation of scooping from your eyes down into your belly, taking one emotion, pulling it up.. and placing it in an egg to keep safe until you're able to cope with it.
Well Dad, I cracked an egg.  And when I thought of it that way, I felt the grief seeping like yoke through my muscles and organs and settling into my body. It was one of many eggs. I have a feeling I'm going to be cracking eggs for a while.