One of the ways I process grief and difficult situations seems to be to think about things in the car. I remember that when my father died for months afterward the moment I turned the key in the ignition, my mind would wander and I would think about my dad. So intently, in fact, that sometimes I would get to my destination and have no idea how I got there, or remember the trip. Another thing I noticed when my dad passed away was that everytime I would go for a dusk/evening neighborhood walk with Jasper, a street light would blow out. It got to be so noticeable (and common) that I actually thought my father was sending me a message by drawing my attention to the blown out streetlight. I'm talking really common. Like every night. I would nod and say to myself, "Got it, Dad."
After a while, it seemed like the street light blowouts were not happening as much anymore, and I would only occasionally notice them. Then, last night, when pulling into the driveway at 2am after picking Cam up at the Senior Bash and dropping him off at a friend's house, my next-door-neighbor's street light blew out. It was simply startling because of the timing and how unexpected it was. I felt it was a direct message from my Dad on Father's Day, and chills went up my spine. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes, when you miss someone so much, that's the way grief works.
So, just like when I hear Louis Prima on the radio, last night I Got it, Dad.