"Each night I put my head to my pillow, I try to tell myself I'm strong because I've gone one more day without you."
Dear Dad -
It's been 11 months and 11 days. I'm still struggling. While I try my best to make it through each day, the reality is the pieces of my broken heart can't seem to find their way back together.
A day, a song, a memory, a smell, a word...any one of these things can stop me on a dime and in an instant I'm reminded you aren't here.
I dreaded my favorite month of the year, July. We share this month as our birthdays are 4 days apart. Typically, we would've celebrated together probably with a cookout, a swim, a delicious piece of grandma's famous chocolate cake and homemade vanilla ice cream. July 22 would've been your 70th birthday. My birthday came and went without your yearly call to sing Happy Birthday to me.
As July passed so did the 10th "13th."
As August arrived so did the 11th "13th." How? How have 11 months passed by since I last spoke to you, hugged you and told you I loved you? It's true that your body goes into a survival mode after experiencing such a great loss. Our body, mind and spirit aren't made to withstand the full effect of our grief and pain. It would simply crumble under the pressure. Or at least I'm telling myself this as I'm preparing for what is coming next, the 12th "13th." I can barely type it let alone allow myself to fully comprehend the extent of it.
I miss you. I miss you every single day. I miss calling you to talk about nothing and everything. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. I miss your hug. I miss your stories (even though I had heard all of them no less than 10 times each). I miss you asking me how my "kids" are because you know my dogs are my kids. I miss you telling me you love me. I miss your shirt coats. I miss talking about politics with you. I miss you making everything better. I miss asking you for advice. I miss you making fun of me having no sense of direction. I miss you telling me to calm down. I miss you telling me to drive only as fast as my wallet will allow. I miss you telling me everything will be alright. I miss you.
Sam, the grief and sadness you feel truly breaks my heart. I wish I could take your pain for you but I think that you would want to keep it, because while you have that, you still have the ability to remember what it is that you lost.
ReplyDeleteNow as I read that back I realize it sounds like I'm calling you a masocist, but I'm not. I just know that I prefer the pain of remembering and missing Grandma versus losing the memory of all those precious times together.
You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, and I know soon the switch will happen that the pain will turn to something a bit softer. In the meantime, your friends are here to distract you from some of it, so just tell me when we need to go to dinner, or learn to make sushi with Bridget or go see a movie, cause I'm here for you!!