Sitting here

Over the past few days I have been sitting here at this computer at my dad's desk in his home office. The wall behind the computer is one giant pin board, with all kinds of things that were important to my dad pinned to it. Pictures he took, donkey postcards, a poster, pictures of the his grandkids, his parents, an old watch, notes referring to his job and wishes for his retirement, old calendars, newspaper clips, words to a prayer, and all kinds of little timbits of informations.
His desk is covered as always, his glasses are laying beside the keyboard, as if he was coming back any minute to look for them. His collection of pens, his notes, his disks everything is just sitting here like normal and nothing has happened.
Going through some of his papers here, we do it with a heavy heart and always the remark, if he knew we were going through his 'holy'stuff. Stuff we were never allowed to look at, let alone look through.
Somehow it just feels to strange to sit here and to know that he won't come in to check on what you are doing at his desk. Somehow it is still so unbelieveable and unimagineable to not ever being able to see his face again or to talk with him.
Being so far away was so much easier than being right here and yet I am not looking forward to leaving here once again soon. Just too much history here that I don't have over there to remember him by. I don't want to miss that.