Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

I wish that somehow this blog post could find its way to you.

I wish, more than anything, that you could be here...right now.

I can't believe that it's been nearly 10 years.

There are so many times that I've wished and prayed and begged God to make these circumstances that are my life, different, than what they are.

When I was growing up, I didn't realize that we lived in this sheltered, happy, little bubble where tragedy and bad things were completely unheard of.

I mean, yeah, we (our family) had our share of issues, and things to deal with...seriously, if we're being honest with ourselves, who doesn't?!

But, when the day was done, and it was time to be tucked into bed, I knew deep down inside, that you and mom loved me more than I could possibly imagine ...

and that I was here, for a reason, a purpose, bigger than myself.

You two helped me believe that.

These days, you will often find me sitting behind the wheel of a Chevy Suburban that is in desperate need of a change of oil, a good vacuuming, and a soapy carwash...

where french fries, stinky basketball shoes, and half drank bottles of water rest upon the floor.

You might call me a 'soccer mom', although these crazy kids of mine have never participated in the sport.

I know my way around any ball field and gymnasium with-in a 75 mile radius...

and a lot of days I want to rip the tiny hairs out of my head,

stressed out to the max,

trying to make a plan about who is supposed to be where, and when, and wondering just how in the hell am I supposed to get 3 kids to 3 different destinations all happening at the same, exact time?!

Dad, 

I wish you were here.

I can't even imagine how loudly you'd be cheering when Tanner sank that game winning, 3-point shot in basketball...

or when Madi struck the 3rd batter out in a clutch game of softball,

or when Tyson finally got over his fear of striking out and hit a grand slam to win the baseball game.

You were my biggest fan,

and I know, with all that I am, that you would be theirs.

I like to think that you are up there,

watching us from above...

reminding me to just BREATHE...

that these moments of stress, are just that, moments...

and they are fleeting and passing me by in the blink of an eye.

And that these kids of mine who were 1 and 2 (and a year from being born) at the time you left us..

somehow know that you are there.

That they have this silent, SUPER, fan cheering them on...

LOVING them from a distance.

March 26

Tomorrow I will turn 35….

he would have been 59….

and as I sit here and type, it looks as though I am simply inputting numbers into the computer.

To most it easily looks like the numbers 35 and 59, pretty mundane and ordinary.

But to me, it is so much more.

In today's world, it's humbling and kind of exhilerating to celebrate a year of growing older.

Seeing a birthday wish sent by a long lost friend via Facebook makes me smile and appreciate social media in new ways.

But nine years ago, before social media changed our whole society, I celebrated my golden birthday by turning twenty six.

I remember that day, although it's a bit of a hazy memory, considering the fact that at the time, I had a two year old and a newly turned one year old (who had just started to sleep through the night weeks before).

That day, I remember feeling pretty excited.

I could feel the specialness of the day deep down inside.

As a child, that date on the calendar had seemed like some distant blip in the future…

like it would never come.

But come it did, and I celebrated it in my usual way….

with him.

He had a big birthday that year too.

We celebrated his big milestone because he was now a half a century old.

Little did we know that day, but it would be the last birthday that we celebrated together.

Just six months later we were forced to say good-bye.

That was the last March 26 where I was innocent and ignorant to the horrible reality of life.

God, Dad, I miss you,

so, so much.

People tell me that I need to move on

and although it's fine to miss him and mourn him,

that  I should celebrate this day because that is what he would want.

I try so hard to follow their advice.

But in all honesty, for me, March 26 will never be the same, no matter how hard I try to move on.

In my heart, it was, and always will be our day.

There was a reason I was born on his 24th birthday in 1981 and not just some random day.

It connected us,

solidified our relationship as more than just dad and daughter…

and I will spend my remaining March 26th's smiling and crying as I remember that truly great man in my life.

Happy Birthday in Heaven dad.

I love you.

Our 1st Birthday Together...

Our Last Birthday Together...

Preserving his story.

Listening to my little girl talk with her friend on the way to gymnastics last week got me thinking, and when I say thinking, I mean really thinking. 

When her friend declared, 'my dad tells us stories about his dad (my grandpa) all the time,' I couldn't help but be a little hurt by her innocent comment.

To me it's funny how life has a way of showing you just what's up…

I don't talk about my dad with my kids as much as I should…(want to, mean to)…I mean, the business of this life just gets in the way.

It's funny how these mundane moments can make you pause and truly think about your life.

That small statement spoke volumes to me.

'My dad tells us stories about our grandpa all the time.' 

Yeah, I can't lie and say that this is true for my kids.

I don't often speak about my dad, their grandpa.

In all honesty, it's just too damn painful.

I want them to know him, but on the other hand, I also don't want to illicit the pain that comes from thinking and talking about him.

But when I think about it, I want them to know the man that made me laugh uncontrollably,

made me roll my eyes and mutter, 'jeez, dad, what are you thinking?!' all the time.

Thankfully, God has other plans, and sees this quietness in my soul and realizes that this isn't how things should be and sends a little 'angel' to remind me what's truly important.

I do need to talk.

It's imperative that I tell my children all about their grandfather including his quirks and idiosyncrasies.

I want need them to know about this amazing man who changed me for the better.

How else can I preserve this amazing man who left this world all too soon?

Me and my broken heart.

I have had this post floating around in my head and whispering to my heart for awhile now.

Eight summers ago my life changed drastically when my heart was broken for the very first time.

I have come to realize over the years that those broken pieces will never be put back together the way that they were.

NO matter how much time passes, I will forever be missing a part of my heart.

As much as I wish it otherwise, I am not the same happy, naive girl I used to be.

Eight summers ago, I stopped saying the word dad,

and it wasn't by choice.

Some would say that I was pretty lucky to go 26 years with all of the pieces of my heart still in tact.

And in a way, I guess that they are right.

I am  was lucky.

The past couple of weeks, I have spent many hours thinking about him, about times that we shared.

I believe all of this thinking started when we were at the county fair 2 weeks ago.

One night, while I waited in an extremely long line to order some food for my family, I watched a smaller family of three try to decide what they were going to order in front of me.

Pretty ordinary, right?

Well, that ordinary moment brought me to tears and has caused me to remember, relive, beg God, cry, and lift my hands to the heavens wishing with all that I am that things were different.

You see, those three people were a mom and a dad and their older teenage daughter.

As they stood there and contemplated what they would order I tried not to seem too stalker-ish as I listened to their banter.

At one point, the father wrapped his big arms around his daughter and smiled down at her.

As she leaned into him and allowed herself to be wrapped up in his warm embrace, I almost lost it.

She looked up at him and he looked down at her and he kissed her....

on the forehead,

just. like. my. dad. would have done.

Shit.

That was it.

I was done.

I can't believe that I was able to order any food at all after that, I just couldn't hold back those big alligator tears that spilled down my cheeks.

That tiny, ordinary moment destroyed me.

All I could think was that, 'I will never have a moment like that again.'

Since that time the only thing that I wanted to do, that I needed to do, was watch my wedding video.

Travis and I were married 10 years ago and I have yet to watch our reception video clips.

Pretty crazy, right?

I mean, ten years without watching a silly video?

Well, tonight, I finally decided that it was time.

{Sigh}

Time that I saw that I did have those ordinary, holy shit, stop time moments with my dad.

This video is pretty raw, but even though it is not of amazing quality, it makes me smile and cry and thank God that I had this amazing man in my life.

I will take the broken heart, it just affirms how very much he meant to me, and still does.