Not 24 hours after the passing of my father, a stomach virus hit our house. It was like it was Dads parting gift. I remember blabbing at him on the phone one day about how I had a 4 year old who had never thrown up - like it was some magical power only I possessed. Well. At 10 pm the night after he passed, just as grief was about to hit me hard, we heard a noise over the baby monitor. In my room (the baby was asleep in my arms downstairs but this was when we had her in our room - sleeping alone for half of the night and then the last half of the night with us). IN MY ROOM AND THE BABY WAS WITH ME.
What. The. Eff.
Sean and I looked at each other quizzically and looked at the ceiling as though our super parent special powers would enable us to see through a few inches of wood, wires, and drywall.
Then we raced upstairs.
My poor sweet almost 5 year old (who is mildly autistic) had come into my room to sit in the rocking chair - a comfort mechanism that worked for her when she was over stimulated. Except this time the stimulation was not in her brain - it was in her stomach and about to be all over Sean, the floor, the chair and *gasp* MY BED.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit.
I am very much a germaphobe and to go through THIS right after losing my father, almost made ME lose it. And then, in the midst of cleaning a mess that would have made Linda Blair jealous, I started laughing. And then Sean started laughing (although looking back, I think he was probably thinking "she has lost it, laugh with her or she will snap"). I looked at him once we got Ariana settled in the bathroom and I was scrubbing my carpet and said "You know, Dad is probably sitting over there in the dry spot, just laughing his ass off at me saying "Now you understand".
Since Dads passing we have survived 3 head colds, 4 flu viruses, norovirus and c-difficile(which is what we had for the week after Dad passed.) We survived.
And yeah Dad. I did understand. I really really did. And I am still laughing.
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