Dad's Butter

When my Dad was home for a week before the Bone Marrow Transplant, Ash, her boyfriend, Mike, and I, did a bunch of grocery shopping for him. Since he was on a macrobiotic diet, there was very specific things he could and couldn't eat. For example, he really couldn't eat anything raw- including most fruits- because of the risk of bacteria that may have been in them. So, we shopped around, buying him huge containers of cottage cheese, canned fruit, etc. We bought him a container of butter and, upon getting home, I wrote his name all over it in huge font with permanent marker.. because we couldn't risk other people dipping in and out of the same butter container.

Now he's gone and that butter is still in the fridge. Every time I open it, my eyes travel right to this container of butter with "DAD" written on the top and all over the sides of it. It kills me. I have tried getting rid of it in so many ways. I have been tempted to scrub the marker off, but it's too fucking hard. This stupid butter container is driving me, and I'm sure the rest of the family, crazy with pain. It's simple things like this that make the grieving process that much more difficult. A stupid, fucking butter container.