You told me it would all be ok. I didn’t believe you. Part of me still didn’t believe you after you died. I wanted to, no doubt about that, but how could ‘ok’ happen when my heart was being pounded through an industrial shredder? Then along came all the people who told me time would help. At six months, I thought they all smoked crack, because life had gone on for everyone else, and I was still hiding in the bathroom late at night, muffling my sobs with a towel. Dark times in a small room, torn between wanting to join you and weariness at trying to walk this path I never asked to visit.
But here we are. Today would have been your 64th birthday. Young by a lot of measures. But you lived your life hard, fully, always pushing the limits, always teaching someone and making people laugh where ever you went. It’s been 2 years & 7 months, and I will always honor this day in my heart, just as I will also honor the day you died, but I’m happy to tell you, a whole lot more of me believes you now, than I did then. Missing you can still feel as fierce and wrenching as it did in the days and months that followed your death, but it no longer feels like it will swallow me whole. You taught me well, Dad. I love you. And today, I miss you to the point of tears. Tomorrow, though, I’ll be ok.
I love you sweetie!
*hugs*
::::Hugs:::: You know, I think the pain of my father’s passing is with me just as the first day, however, the difference is that I hold it as a badge of honor. His life is a part of me, of course, as well as his passing. I have learned so much from him in life and death. You are on the same path. :)
I know how much you love country music (said tongue-in-cheek, of course) and there’s a song that reminds me of you, and gives me strength to know that when I join the dead-Dad club, I’ll make it through, as well. It will be hard, but us girls, we’re made of some tough stuff.
I’ll spare you the lyrics, but it’s called “Cowgirls Don’t Cry”
Love ya, girlfriend…(((((((hugs)))))))
I wish I could give you a big hug today, not just some words on the Internet. But this is all I can do: *hugs*
i love you, like many others. and like those others, wish i could be there to give you a hug.
Sorry, Jen :( 61 is not a good number for me either.