It’s been almost a year
I stil don’t allow myself to cry
Life isn’t the same
It’s lost some magic
I think about you everyday, every hour, every minute
Your picture is in the living room
The kids kiss it and tell you and mom goodnight
I miss Sunday breakfast
Monday night tv
Lying my head on your shoulder when I needed a pep talk
Your corny jokes
Your amazing sayings
The gap between your teeth
Seeing you with a crisp haircut and having you say that next time you will have them shave it all off
Sitting in the den with Duke and Daisy
The hearty laugh that you always broke into
Your positivity with life and us
Buying me something new at the grocery store bc you thought I might like it
Your holiday walks after dinner
Walking in the door from work, whistling
Showing you off to my friends bc you and mom were the coolest
The epic parties that you guys threw
Getting to share all those years at Harley’s with you
Learning to be a damn good dart player
The time you took me to that special store and bought me my own darts
Sitting in the backyard eating dinner and enjoying the day
Yes, your hugs they fixed anything
The time you walked me down the aisle
Driving into the city and being so proud that my daddy helped build that place
The time when we had “The Blackout” and we sat in the car listening to the radio
Being equally as excited to see Daisy and Duke when you got home from work as you were to see me and mom
The way you helped me setup my room after I moved back before I met Adam
Letting me know how much you loved Adam and how perfect you thought he was for me
When I finally heard your voice saying “I’m walking across the bridge now baby, I’m ok” on 911
Playing board games
Playing epic card games where auntie Jan would draw on the table
Eating all the junk food with you. Onion and garlic potato chips will always remind me of you.
The books you bought me on how to fix things so I would always be able to take care of myself
Writing in said books that if I learn all this stuff I might be as good as you 🙂
My birthday cards when it was easy to let mom write all the messages, bc it’s what moms do, but you would always write something equally as special
The worry on your face when I had my spinal fusion done
Bringing me Irish food when I was in the hospital to cheer me up
Being the couple that I looked up too all of my life and will forever look up to
The way to absolutely loved to jive and always danced with mom
Grabbing auntie Jan or someone else and dancing the jive with both of them at the same time
Hearing all the stories from when you were younger
The pride in your voice when you spoke about Uncle Mickey and how overjoyed you were to see him everyday when you moved back home
The tears in your eyes when you first met L
I still don’t want to believe that you are gone. Or that you even had a stroke. A piece of my heart is forever gone, it’s up in the sky with you. I get your signs and I’m so happy you kept that promise. You said that when you got up there if there was a way to communicate you would. Things are so different dad. I’m happy, I am. I have amazing kids a great husband and some pretty awesome family. I just need you.
Loss is a tricky thing. There is so much grief that I’m overwhelmed. I have been having panic attacks since your stroke, but they have magnified since Nov 23 (22 for me bc of the time difference.) I try not to cry bc I’m afraid I won’t stop and when I allow myself to cry my body physically stops me. I get so lost in thoughts that I zone out.
One of the hardest things for me is not remembering. Since having fibro I have actually lost a ton of memories. I can’t remember hardly anything. Short and long term are both horribly affected. The doctors say that since they don’t know an awful lot about fibro yet they don’t have a solution. So when I look back dad I can’t remember that many moments. It’s not fair, those are all I have of you and I feel like I have been robbed. I have screamed and yelled, cried and begged and prayed as hard as I could, but I can’t get them back.
Mom has a ton of tapes that she took of you and I’m desperate to see them. I am starting to forget the sound of your voice. I just want to hear you say you love me one more time. I am struggling and I don’t know how to fix it.
L talks about you a lot. She knows you are in heaven and makes sure to tell me that you are watching over us. That I can cry on her shoulder when I need too and I can talk about you to her if it will help me feel better. She is amazing and I pray that you can see it. J looks like you so much. He makes faces and smiles just like you. He has a smirk that feels like you looking back at me. I am so grateful to have that bc he is a constant happy reminder of you.
I have told you this many times, but I am so proud of you. You got knocked down hard by life yet everyday you were positive. There were hardly any days that you let yourself feel sorry or bad for yourself. You helped me be positive when it should have been the other way around. I have grown so much since that phone call in May telling me you had a stroke. I was so grateful everytime I heard your voice or saw you, but I can’t lie. There were times when I would run from it because I was afraid. Afraid if I talked to you something bad would happen, or that I would remember it all over again and be forced to realize that you weren’t my dad pre-stroke. I am not big on regret, it makes us old, stress, act irrational. I do however regret that I didn’t speak with you twice or three times a day or that I didn’t see you more, but here is the thing – when we lose someone we all have that regret because even if we live with the person we will always regret or wish that we had said I Love You one more time, or gotten in one more hug, or one more heart to heart. It’s selfish to want you back, but you can’t blame a girl for thinking it.
Wherever you are daddy know that your Tt will keep your memory alive. That I will tell the kids all I can remember. That they will always know how much you loved them and that I will be ok. I will be ok.
To the first man I loved and my hero may you rest in peace daddy. I love you