I'm trying

The week before my mom passed away, my dad and I had ordered him a utility vehicle. Mama had been adamant that she wanted him to have one because of the deterioration of his knees. Typical of her that she was grappling with her own pain and illness and she was worried about him. So we ordered him one and it came in last week. As excited as  he was to get it, there's a tinge of sadness around it, too, that she didn't live to see him get it. She knew he had it ordered, though, so I suppose that comforted her enough.

I've never really driven any sort of ATV's or UTV's. That was my middle sister's thing to do with Daddy when we were growing up. But Daddy wanted me to learn how to drive it in case he needed me to. So we took it out yesterday and I drove it through the hunting trails and while it wasn't nearly as scary as I had thought, it was very different from driving a car. The gas pedal takes some finessing and there's no power steering.

In the course of driving it, found myself saying "I'm trying" multiple times when Daddy would impatiently tell me to turn a certain direction. No power steering means you really have to work at turning the wheel and there's no such thing as a sharp or quick turn. When, after a while he mimicked "I'm trying" I simply stated "It's harder than I'm used to."

Just like driving a UTV without power steering, suddenly navigating overwhelming grief is harder than I'm used to but I'm trying. I'm trying to hold my shit together while pretending I'm okay. I'm trying to "be myself" out in the world as though my life hasn't been altered beyond recognition. I'm trying to get through each day without sobbing. I'm trying to take care of my dad the way she would have wanted me to. I'm trying not to be so damned angry at the world, at God, at my own existence. I'm trying. It's harder than I'm used to.