Im ready

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I am ready for spring. I want my flowers to poke on through to life above ground. I so anticipate the flowers I planted after my Fathers death to spring to life. Symbolism for me to believe that life goes on. I have some bitterness towards the establishment, I need to blame someone for Pops death. I am analytical as that. Answers to how and why are toruring me at night.
How did I miss this?
How could I let him go?
Where did it all go wrong?
Mom and I went and pu the request in for Pops medical records for the time in the hospital til his death. I so want to sit and read through the whole thing.
In my anticipatory state I hope to find a Dr signature that says
"I F'ed up today and now this wonderful man is going to die and it is NOT HIS DAUGHTERS FAULT FOR NOT PAYING ATTENTION AND FOR NOT TAKING THIS SURGERY SERIOUSLY ENOUGH>"
I dont think that will happen.
I promised my dad that I would not let anything happen tohim, I did. He is now dust in a box in my Moms bedroom. I know that is just his body but I truly feel pain in my belly when I think about it.
My Mom is going to visit my brother in New Mexico for the month of March. I am so happy she is going and getting away from the cold weather and the BOX>.
Everyday is difficult for her. She talks sometimes about passing the day. "That will pass a few hours." or "Better than sitting in this house any longer." She raised four kids and was married to my dad since she ws 17 years old. She has been taking care of people and doing it unselfishly her whole life. Now what to do.
I chose this painting for her appearance of wonder and contentment. Her feet gently in the water. It appears to be a late evening warm and wondrous. changing light, changing temps, I would love to be there next to her.

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