Happy Birthday Daddy
Today you would have been 54. Today you would have gone to work, come home, and gone out to eat with your family. Today I would have told you about work, school, and we probably would have had a burping contest at the dinner table just to disgust Mom.
Instead, today I visited you at your grave. I placed flowers next to your name, and talked to you without hearing your voice respond, except for in my head. I stayed with you for a few hours today, just talking, telling you all about things that are going on. I stayed as long as I could, but it just didn't seem long enough. It never does. And as usual, I left you crying and with memories of my life with you flashing before my eyes.
I can't say that I'm sad, or lonely, because I'm not. I do miss you like crazy and have wondered many times what it would be like if you were still here. I wonder what other memories we would have, or what you would be doing today or any day of the week for that matter. I often think of how my life would be different if you were still here. It's kind of hard to find someone to talk to about you because no one completely understands. Pain shoots through me every time someone brings up his or her dad. When I see a happy family. Or even when I see a father and a daughter, whether they are laughing and joking or fighting.
I think about what life would be like with you now. Today at work, we were talking about children, grandparents and our own parents because Dr. D's wife is due in September and April just had her baby a few weeks ago. It got me thinking to you, about how great of a dad you were, and how wonderful of a grandfather you would have been, for any child Tim or I had. You gave me as much as you could and probably more than I ever deserved.
It's hard to believe it's been over 2 years since you've been gone. I can't remember your voice and sometimes I have a hard time remembering all the good times we had together because the last 8 months of your life stand out so strongly. From the time we found out to our last conversation we had the night before you died. I never thought I'd have to say goodbye so soon. And sometimes I still have dreams about you that seem so real that they can't possibly be dreams.
I just want to say:
Happy Birthday Daddy. I love you and even though I can't be there with you to celebrate, I hope you had one hell of a party. I miss you more than the world itself and would give anything for you to be back here with me. I hope Heaven is everything you thought it would be and more. You deserve the best.
*NOTE* For those of you reading this thinking that I'm really sad and depressed, please understand that I'm not. I miss my father very much and there are 3 days a year that are very hard for me. Christmas, My dad's birthday and the day he died. On all three of these days, I take time to visit him (when I'm in town) and take time to remember him. I think about him everyday, and talk to him often. But these 3 days are very important days to me. I know it's been over 2 years, and for some you might be thinking that's plenty of time to move on. Which in some cases it is, but once you lose one of your parents (esp at a young age), you'll understand that even if you've "moved on," there are still days that are harder than others.
Instead, today I visited you at your grave. I placed flowers next to your name, and talked to you without hearing your voice respond, except for in my head. I stayed with you for a few hours today, just talking, telling you all about things that are going on. I stayed as long as I could, but it just didn't seem long enough. It never does. And as usual, I left you crying and with memories of my life with you flashing before my eyes.
I can't say that I'm sad, or lonely, because I'm not. I do miss you like crazy and have wondered many times what it would be like if you were still here. I wonder what other memories we would have, or what you would be doing today or any day of the week for that matter. I often think of how my life would be different if you were still here. It's kind of hard to find someone to talk to about you because no one completely understands. Pain shoots through me every time someone brings up his or her dad. When I see a happy family. Or even when I see a father and a daughter, whether they are laughing and joking or fighting.
I think about what life would be like with you now. Today at work, we were talking about children, grandparents and our own parents because Dr. D's wife is due in September and April just had her baby a few weeks ago. It got me thinking to you, about how great of a dad you were, and how wonderful of a grandfather you would have been, for any child Tim or I had. You gave me as much as you could and probably more than I ever deserved.
It's hard to believe it's been over 2 years since you've been gone. I can't remember your voice and sometimes I have a hard time remembering all the good times we had together because the last 8 months of your life stand out so strongly. From the time we found out to our last conversation we had the night before you died. I never thought I'd have to say goodbye so soon. And sometimes I still have dreams about you that seem so real that they can't possibly be dreams.
I just want to say:
Happy Birthday Daddy. I love you and even though I can't be there with you to celebrate, I hope you had one hell of a party. I miss you more than the world itself and would give anything for you to be back here with me. I hope Heaven is everything you thought it would be and more. You deserve the best.
*NOTE* For those of you reading this thinking that I'm really sad and depressed, please understand that I'm not. I miss my father very much and there are 3 days a year that are very hard for me. Christmas, My dad's birthday and the day he died. On all three of these days, I take time to visit him (when I'm in town) and take time to remember him. I think about him everyday, and talk to him often. But these 3 days are very important days to me. I know it's been over 2 years, and for some you might be thinking that's plenty of time to move on. Which in some cases it is, but once you lose one of your parents (esp at a young age), you'll understand that even if you've "moved on," there are still days that are harder than others.