One Whole Year
Dear Daddy,
It’s been one whole year since you showed up at my house at 7:00 am to babysit the twins (You were always there when I needed you). One whole year since Henry’s poop fell out of his diaper and onto the floor and we laughed about how we were lucky not to have stepped in it. One whole year since I was talking to you through our Ring camera, and you were getting ready to take the twins stroll down the street in their little blue car. It was your regular routine, and the neighbors’ kids had already started calling you “Pop.” You always were a “kid whisperer.”
It’s been one whole year since I got that phone call while sitting at my desk at work, and I rushed home to find the police at my house and you lying in my yard. One whole year since I looked into your eyes for the last time as you tried to make a joke while waiting for the paramedics to arrive (joking right until the end). One whole year since Mom and I were sitting in the ER waiting room hearing the doctor say the word “inoperable” and trying to process what that actually meant. I still remember the outfit I was wearing that day. I can’t help but wonder if you heard me say “I love you” before they put you into the ambulance? Did you know how special you were to me? To my children? Did you know how much losing you would utterly shatter my world?
In the one whole year since you left, I’ve experienced some of my highest highs and my lowest lows. Every single time I wanted to pick up my phone and call you. I yearned so bad to hear you tell me “This too shall pass.” Others said it of course, but when you said it, I believed it. I was comforted. I was safe.
Reflecting on this past year, I know I’ve done things that you wouldn’t be so proud of. I guess I was trying to bury my feelings, numb my pain … losing you has made me question EVERYTHING. I feel lost. Who am I anymore? Is this what I want my life to be? I long to escape my reality that no longer includes you.
Just so you know, I have done some pretty good things too. Things you’d be proud of. You always were my biggest cheerleader.
I’m still learning every single day how to live a life without you in it. Some days are filled with anger. An anger that resides deep within me and fills every part of my being until it boils over onto anyone or anything nearby. Some days are filled with sadness … not only sadness for myself, but for Mom and for my boys (and so many others that loved you). Sad that you only got a few years with them. Being a grandfather was clearly your favorite role. You deserved more time with them, and they could have learned so much from you.
I have gotten better at hiding the tears and putting a smile on my face. But sometimes the smallest things punch you in the gut. Just recently, a nurse called to verify information for one of the boys’ upcoming procedures, and she read your phone number listed as an emergency contact. “No, that’s no longer a good number.” OUCH.
On October 1st, I turned 37. It was the first birthday I celebrated without you, without my dad. I fondly remember the story of you singing “Happy Birthday” to me in the hospital the day I was born. These weeks leading up to the anniversary of your death have been HEAVY. I pull into my driveway and find myself looking over at the spot in our yard where you last really saw me. I try so hard to remember the look in your eyes.
Grief is a strange animal. One that I haven’t fully tamed yet. But I keep telling myself (or is that my therapist telling me?!) that’s ok … It’s only been one whole year.
Wherever you are, I hope you are happy. And I hope you know what an amazing father you were.
Love always,
Your Baby Girl
