Saturday, May 16, 2015
It's been one year. 525,600 minutes, give or take, since we lost you. And while the loss is perhaps not as raw as it was those first few days, there's still an ache, a hurt, and most of all, a gigantic void in all of our hearts.
There's been so much you've missed over the last year, although I try to believe you've been watching over us, so you've seen it all. Hopefully you've seen the birthdays, the boys' shows and special achievements, the holidays. Maybe you've not had to see the struggles or the tears.
So many times I've picked up the phone to call you, to share both random and specific news. I had to stop myself from seeking your words of wisdom while Wayne's mom was fighting her own battles, had to stop myself from checking in with you every time I was on the road. And of course, you were the missing piece in the absolute excitement I felt when I finally got my first executive director job a few months ago. You know how long and how hard I've worked for this, and (at least in my opinion) so far, I'm pretty good at it.
But you also missed another crappy winter. I know you would have had some pointed words for what's been going on in our world. And more than that, I know you would have had some funny stories to tell.
I'm still at a loss a lot of the time. I've spent the entire year holding it together for everyone else, but there are the occasional cracks. But honestly, most of all, I feel the same way I did when I wrote what I said at your funeral.
Dad, I don't need milestone days like these to remember you, to cherish the memories, or appreciate the man you were. I do that every day. It's just, on days like these, it's just a little harder.
We love you, and I love you, with all of my heart, and I miss you more than words can say. So often I still am grateful for what you gave me and what you taught me, and simply for your being the man you were.
I love you,