Painting Your Picture

I've recently been able to talk about you in a whole new way Dad. I've been able to share you with people who never met you. This experience has been so healing for me, to be able to paint the picture of who you are, has been transforming.

Having somone be able to tell from my stories, and maybe a few pictures things about you that had been so obvious to those of us who had the blessing of you in our lives, has been amazing. To have someone, whose never met you, comment on your love for Will, or for me. On your talent. On your humor. On your tattoos. It's been amazing. I've never felt more proud.

With the pride comes waves of pain, but it's so different now. It comes with a rush of relief. That I was able to share you and get through it without a quivering voice or silent tears. But later, when I sit alone and wish we could talk about it, then I cry.

So much is different than the last time we spoke. So much has changed since the last time I laid my head on your shoulder knowing I could do no wrong in your eyes. My world has turned upside down and inside out. In some ways so amazing and exhilirating and in some so sad and scary that I'm sometimes grateful that you're not going through this pain with me--because I know you would.

I miss you every day. I think of you every day. I love you every day.
Thank you for making me the person that I am. Thank you for continuing to build me even still.
You're role in my life is constant, no matter your form.
I love you too. Ok. Ok, Bye.

1 Year Later

Last week was the "anniversary".  I hate that word--anniversary is a happy word.  Last week marked 365 days since...the last time we saw each other...the last time we spoke...the last day you shared this earth with us....

I wasn't sure what to expect that day. I didn't know who I'd want to share the day with, what I'd want to do. Then I realized, I knew I didn't want to "mark" that day. I don't want to, year after year, punctuate November with the pain I felt that day, that week, that month last year. It does a disservice to the pain I felt the 364 days of the year that followed. It implies that the day I learned you were taken from me was more painful than each day after.

I'd be lying if I said it hasn't gotten any easier.  But that doesn't make it easy. It's not true to say that the pain is not less stabbing that it was in the days and weeks and first months after you were gone. But it doesn't mean it's not there. 

For me, it's not just the "firsts"...first Christmas without you, first birthday, first "anniversary", because I realize with Will, those "firsts" are just going to keep coming. Each time he learns a new word, grows and inch, tells a joke, starts school, rides a bike, gets married...each of those will be lived with a piece of my heart broken because you're not there to share it.  I know that this pain is something I have to learn to live with and that means finding a place for it to stay. I have to learn what that pain is going to be for me: is it going to be anger and injustice or is it going to be memory and peace that you can see it all, and be part of it all, even though I can't see it.

I'm working hard to give that pain it's proper place. I'm starting to be able to share memories of you without dissolving into tears. I'm starting to hear your voice and smile and not just break down.  I'm starting to make decisions that I think will make you proud, and not be afraid to make them at all because I can't ask your opinion first....

One year later, I think I'm finding my way through the fog. It's still there, but I feel like I may have a lantern in hand...and I know exactly where the light is coming from.

I love you Dad. I miss you as much as ever.
Ok? Ok. Ok, bye.

Not So Happy Birthday...

Yesterday was your birthday. You would have been 50. I remember last year, when mom turned 50, and you came over and helped us celebrate--I remember thinking then how I'd have to rent a room to start planning your 50th birthday bash. I wondered who I could call on to help get the invites spread.  I knew there would be so many people who would want to toast you on this milestone.....To this day I am in disbelief that it's a milestone you didn't reach.

We all went to church and said a prayer in you memory. We chattered quietly over breakfast and missed you. We lit candles, Nani got flowers, we posted on Facebook how much love you and missed you still.

You were certainly remembered on your birthday this year. I wish I could say it was happy. It was not for me.  This was the first birthday that I didn't have you here to wish you a happiest of days.  I'll be glad when I stop having "first this" and "first that" without you.  I don't know if that will ever happen.  As the months tick by, I wonder when I'll start to feel some closure, some sanity in dealing with this void.

Right now, all I know for sure, is that a day doesn't pass that I don't think of you.  Every day, tears are shed because I can't talk to you, or see you just one more time.  Sometimes it feels as raw as if it's day one. Not day 301.  I love you Dad. I hope you're watching and I hope you're proud. I hope that in all this sadness, that somewhere, there is joy.

Rock Bottom

Dearest Dad,

I have to apologize to you....I have let myself, my life, my heart, my marriage, my job, I've let it all hit rock bottom. I've been scrambling to give it all the illusion of keeping it at least somewhat together, and clearly, it's gotten me nowhere.

I have to apologize, because I know this must be breaking your heart to watch.  I have to tell you how sorry I am that I let it all get this far and so out of control.

I won't bore you with the details, becuase I know you've seen it all--I just want to tell you how I've decided to fix it.  I feel like maybe if we'd have this talk when you were still with me, perhaps I wouldn't have as heavy of a heart as I do now, but I'm going to put it out there.

I was sending out emails today for our upcoming March of Dimes walk, and just so heartbroken that you won't be there, and my mind drifted to the time of being pregnant with Will.  It was a time that my whole world was crashing around me. I was more terrified and hopeless than I'd ever been before.  But when I look at what I did then, and how things turned out, I had to examine how I got from there to here.  I think you knew this then, and I think it touched your own heart, softened it and showed you true miracles, but I know you know this now. I didn't lean on you.  I didn't even lean on Jeff. I leaned on the only one who could get me out of the darkness, the only one who was in control, the one not only responsible for the final outcomes, but of my reaction to whatever that may have been.  I leaned on God.

I remember someone once said to me at that time that my emails that I was sending out were getting pretty "God is good" and maybe a little churchy.  Well, maybe that was true, but it was from my heart then, and the Lord lead me out of that despair.  He gave me strength and courage. And we both know that He saved Will.  No one can explain him other than a miracle--and I know you believe that too.

I'm telling you now, and I'm telling anyone reading this, and anyone who might wonder what the hell I'm doing with my life, but it's about to get a whole-lotta-Jesus up in here.  The one time in my life that I truly went from the darkest deepest despair to a place of light, healing and praise, is the one time I put my trust so fully in His plan.  I have to do that now, and I hope that you, watching over me will help me on this journey.  Watch over me Dad.  I will pray each day that you only see beauty and joy and love not only where you are, resting in His arms, after a lifetime of struggle, but watching over my life, and what I truly believe God will bring me.  He will lead me out of this horrible pit I've been living in the last 5 months, and I pray for your support and guidance from above.

I love you with all my heart Dad, there is not a day that will go by that I won't miss your presence.
I ask God now to give me some rest from this pain.  Even if it's just an hour of good sleep.  I trust that this is His plan for me. I trust that this will truly be a time of one set of footprints and that now He will carry me.

I can't wait to talk with you more about this journey Dad, and until our souls reunite one day, I love you, I love you, I love you.  Ok, ok. bye.

Still Missing You...

I was flipping through our video camera today, and there were a few that you were in...one was just your voice...hearng your speaking voice is so hard for me....I miss talking to you so much...

I feel like I just still can not believe this is true....I hate not sharing each new thing with you.

I look at Will, how much he's grown and changed.  How much he TALKS.  You'd think he was hilarious.
I know how proud you would be of him. He's so amazing--smart and funny and adventerous.  He's polite and he has a true sense of humour.

There's just nothing else to say except that I just miss you so much.
I love you. Ok. Ok Bye.

More from Will...

Every time I open my computer Will has been asking to "see more Papa".  I flip through the album I have put together and he just says "more Papa, more Papa".  "Der he ISSS!" "Der he ISSS!"
He told me he misses you. "Where is he? I miss him. I give him hug! Kiss too! Mm hm.".

I'm actually kind of surprised how much he remembers you, and talks about you.  I was so worried he'd never remember you, but even at how young he is, and almost 4 months later he still asks about you, asks to see you, points you out in pictures.  It's so bittersweet.

He's doing so well, and grown and changed so much that it's unbearable for me that I can't share it with you. I try to take comfort in knowing that you see all of it now, but selfishly, it's just not the same.

I feel like the raw edge of pain is starting to dull a little--but some days I'm not so sure.
I'm sure it appears that I'm healing--maybe I am a little, but I feel so drastically changed that I don't know if true healing will ever take place. I feel like when a cannon ball goes through a cartoon character (I know you're loving this analogy) and there's a big window-like hole through the middle of their stomach.  That's how I feel.  It's such a vivid hole that it's almost tangible.

I'm curious to see where the summer is going to take me emotionally--I know Jackie and I are already letting our thoughts drift to Summerfest and State Fair...we just don't know what we'll do. Even the warm weather, which my body is excited for, makes my heart hurt.  I know how much you hated the winter.

Every day since you've been gone, even on the darkest dreariest days, there has been some point where I've looked up at the sky and there's at least one sliver of sunshine. On my saddest days the moon has been so bright and I've seen more full moons in the last 4 months (or almost full, whatever, technicallity) than I've seen in my life. The radio seems to have a new dj. Song that I love, and never hear, are all the sudden easy  to find. I  refuse to beleive this is happenstance. Or that I'm looking for it.  I'm just sayin'.

I miss you so much.  Still fighting the urge to call almost daily.
I love you Dad. So much.
Ok. Ok. Bye.

In Da Moooonnn....

Yesterday I told Will that Jackie was going to come and visit him this weekend. He smiled, nodded and said "Papa too!".  When I told him that you couldn't come, and I asked him if he remembered where you were, he said, "Yeah, mmm hmm, up in da mooonn! Up high! Reach! Reach! Uhh! Uhhh!".

I don't know how I'm going to handle this--seeing him see her--I know he'll be confused, wondering why you're not there.  I think I will be too.

Sometimes I still wonder how this can possibly be real--and when I'll wake up from this nightmare.

I wonder if this level of grief is normal from a daughter to a father.
I miss our talks so much.
I miss wondering how much brain damage I'm getting as the heat from my phone is burning my ear.
I miss your jokes and your laugh--I used to feel so proud of myself if I could make you laugh.
I miss how you'd say, "oh my god, that's hysterical"....
I even miss how you'd describe certain foods as the kind that made you have to poop "like....NOW".

How could we have lost such an original.
Your place in my life, and in my heart is so far beyond replaceable.
I continue to miss you and love you more than ever.
I love you. Ok. Ok, bye.