Dear Daddy,
Yesterday was one month since you left. The impact that it had on me caught me off guard. I'm not really one for anniversaries. Dates don't really bear a lot of weight- they're just a day like any other. I don't usually feel more pain or joy on an anniversary than I do on any other day. This one is different, though. I think because it forced me to face the fact that time has continued to pass, even though I feel like it has been standing still.
You probably know this from where you sit now, but everything is okay. The night you went was horrible. Only someone who has witnessed it can possibly understand. It was the most traumatic event I hope to ever experience, yet I wouldn't have changed it for the world. I begged God to take your pain away, yet begged Him not to take you from me. My soul was forever changed that night. You blessed me with an incredible brother who was my backbone, my bodyguard, my best friend. You must be so proud of how strong he was and how he held me up. You were so strong, Daddy. I'm sure it sound cliche by now, but nobody will ever understand unless they were there. You were your own man, the master of your fate and the captain of your soul until your last breath.
I managed to ensure that your last words to me were, "I love you too." Your granddaughters were brave, too. I hope you saw how our little Bear hugged you, kissed you, held your hand and covered you in sparkles so the angels could find you. She loves you more than you ever knew, Daddy. Yesterday I asked them what they love most about you and she said she loves how silly you are. Kate loves how you sing with them. They still sing your songs. Yes, I'll make sure they always do. Lauryn sometimes walks around singing, "bushel and a peck" for half an hour straight. They are so strong. Stronger than me.
Sometimes I think I'm doing okay because you loved me so well and so deeply that I have enough love to last a lifetime. Then I have days, like today, when I think that I've just been so busy that I haven't fully grasped what the rest of my life will be like without you. I have good substitutes, but my days are so lonely without you to call. Nobody cares like you did. Even though I know I am loved, the world is so empty when someone who loved you from your first breath has taken their last. I carry your love for me in my heart, but it's still gone. It's no longer tangible. You are a memory now. That's what hit me the other day-walking out to the mailbox- my Daddy, so real just weeks ago, is now just a memory. The memory of you takes my breath away, but everyone else has to keep breathing.
Uncle B said he dreams about you. John did too. I told them I didn't want to dream about you and so, of course, that night I dreamed about you. It was Christmas. You were there the whole time, standing by the tree, opening presents with us (you were silent, I later realized). I left to go somewhere and remembered that I had been to your funeral. Suddenly I wondered if I was crazy. If anyone else had seen you. It had been so natural to me that you were there, but I was scared to ask John if you were really there because I was afraid he would think I was crazy or tell me that I had imagined it. Maybe I hadn't really been to your funeral. I drove around trying to decide if I should go back to see if you were still there. Then I woke up. I don't mean to make you feel bad, but I dread Christmas now. Oh my goodness, how you loved that holiday. You loved giving gifts and you were worse than a child at keeping secrets. I just can't imagine finding the same joy from now on that I had when you were here.
Daddy, I miss you so much. I love you so much. No illness, no death, can take that love away. What is love without an outlet, Daddy? What do I do with it? It's not a love that I can give anyone else- it's only for my Daddy. Thank you for teaching me how to love.
A day with the Lord is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day. I'll see you in a day or so, Daddy.
