A Real Alaskan Housewife

I visited my dad today at Fort Richardson National Cemetery. I know since he  has passed, I can talk to him anywhere. His memory stays with me. Sometimes though, I need the physical motion of visiting his grave site. The weather was cold, 16°F. The sun is out but has no warmth. Snow is on the ground. Yet I can hear birds singing-letting me know spring is not far away & there is a future no matter how I may feel at the moment.  With a fresh snowfall, I can see footprints to various headstones. As always, I took pictures of my Dad's view. The mountains are beautiful with the snow crowns. The green of the spruce trees are a stark contrast to the white mountains. I truely miss him. Sometimes the pain is not there. Other times, especially when going thru difficult times, all I can think about is wanting him here. I need his advice. I regret not listening more. I want him to watch his grandchildren grow. I miss him...

For most of my adult life, I have been worried about becoming my mother. Don't get me wrong. I love my mom. However, she is very negative about almost everything; she is always right & if your opinion is different than hers, then there is something wrong with you; she treats her grand-kids different depending on how well she likes the spouse; she is a hoarder-growing up she was poor & she was taught that everything has multiple uses NEVER THROW OUT ANYTHING!  I think I have done a good job at not becoming my mom. There have been times when I will do or say something & I hear my mother...so I stop, evaluate & choose to act different. I forgot about my dad. My dad was raised in poverty, parents were not caring, lots of siblings (12 I think) so what the family had was spread very thin. Growing up for me was not as bad as my parents. Six kids, raised in the Coast Guard, two parents who were married over 30 years at the time of his passing in 2003. Comparing the thre...