A letter to Papa
Dear Papa,
Tomorrow morning, we will say goodbye to you for the last time. You gave us quite a dress rehearsal 2 years ago, but honestly, nothing could prepare me for this day. You have always been the unchanging, unwavering constant in my life, the steady shoulder to lay my head on when things got tough. Even when I was thousands of miles away, the memory of you holding me kept me strong. You were the first person to teach me love, when most babies in my position had nothing. You taught me that God loves every child, no matter their story or the color of their skin. That some babies need a little more loving than others, and some will never get the love they need. You taught me that no matter what, no good deed goes unnoticed.
You had a poem that hung next to your front door. It was the story of the footprints in the sand. I know they are supposed to be the Lord's footprints, but that story resonated with me in a different way. As a child, I thought those prints were yours. Whenever I was hurt or lost, I knew I had you to pick me up again. I realize now that that print was mass-produced and distributed all over the world, because I've seen it so many times. But the nice thing is, every time I see it I think of you.
These are things that remind me of you:
tropical fish
fiber optic roses
polaroids
Old Spice
"Shortnin' Bread"
recliner chairs
the word Davenport
IHOP
bubblegum ice cream
newspapers, and consequently, rubberbands
Warsh cloths
trampolines
roast beef
bug zappers
pasta salad
cadillacs
Red Vines
Popcorn, hot dogs and basketball games in general
carpeted kitchens
wrought iron
There are more, but that's the list for right now.
When I think about you being gone, it triggers my deepest fears of abandonment, and I realize the weight of the gift you gave me. Very few motherless girls have been so lucky.
I don't know if you heard, but when we visited you in the hospital, Mom thanked you for giving me to them. I said so too, but not out loud. I don't know if the words can encompass that depth of gratitude.
I know that you were pretty gone by then, but I hope that you knew I was with you. We were all with you, and we always will be. I hope you weren't lonely on that last night. I almost came back and stayed. I almost did.
I've been having trouble sleeping since you went on home.
I can't get comfortable knowing your shoulder isn't there for me to sleep on.
You were the invincible person in my life
the reality is hard to face.
I only hope I see you again someday. I love you.
Love,
Coley
The Doctor's Daughter
Tomorrow morning, we will say goodbye to you for the last time. You gave us quite a dress rehearsal 2 years ago, but honestly, nothing could prepare me for this day. You have always been the unchanging, unwavering constant in my life, the steady shoulder to lay my head on when things got tough. Even when I was thousands of miles away, the memory of you holding me kept me strong. You were the first person to teach me love, when most babies in my position had nothing. You taught me that God loves every child, no matter their story or the color of their skin. That some babies need a little more loving than others, and some will never get the love they need. You taught me that no matter what, no good deed goes unnoticed.
You had a poem that hung next to your front door. It was the story of the footprints in the sand. I know they are supposed to be the Lord's footprints, but that story resonated with me in a different way. As a child, I thought those prints were yours. Whenever I was hurt or lost, I knew I had you to pick me up again. I realize now that that print was mass-produced and distributed all over the world, because I've seen it so many times. But the nice thing is, every time I see it I think of you.
These are things that remind me of you:
tropical fish
fiber optic roses
polaroids
Old Spice
"Shortnin' Bread"
recliner chairs
the word Davenport
IHOP
bubblegum ice cream
newspapers, and consequently, rubberbands
Warsh cloths
trampolines
roast beef
bug zappers
pasta salad
cadillacs
Red Vines
Popcorn, hot dogs and basketball games in general
carpeted kitchens
wrought iron
There are more, but that's the list for right now.
When I think about you being gone, it triggers my deepest fears of abandonment, and I realize the weight of the gift you gave me. Very few motherless girls have been so lucky.
I don't know if you heard, but when we visited you in the hospital, Mom thanked you for giving me to them. I said so too, but not out loud. I don't know if the words can encompass that depth of gratitude.
I know that you were pretty gone by then, but I hope that you knew I was with you. We were all with you, and we always will be. I hope you weren't lonely on that last night. I almost came back and stayed. I almost did.
I've been having trouble sleeping since you went on home.
I can't get comfortable knowing your shoulder isn't there for me to sleep on.
You were the invincible person in my life
the reality is hard to face.
I only hope I see you again someday. I love you.
Love,
Coley
The Doctor's Daughter