Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, my “loss”.
Sometimes it feels all too real that I lost my father.
I can’t wrap my head around the fact that he is gone. That I don’t get to see him, hear him, hug him, or even get annoyed by him again.
As I sit here in his living room, I wait for him to come out of his shop in the garage. I wait for him to wake up after his long slumber of sleeping in until the afternoon of his retirement years. I want to look over and see him in “his chair” snacking and watching whatever is on the history or military channel.
Instead I sit here and ache. My heart aches and longs for him day after day. I long to hear him say “Hi, baby” as I walk into the room. Give me kisses on the cheek and head as he walks past me. To drive with him to dinner or just to run an errand. I want to know that when I call home I will hear his voice again.
I found these words saved on my computer from when I started to write about my feelings early on this past summer. I never felt that I could get my true feelings out and written, which is why I never finished this post, but as I look back on these words today. . . they are exactly how I still feel.
In around a week it will be 4 months since our “loss”. Four months since I talked to my father on the phone and heard him call me “Baby”. Four months since I heard him say I love you or “later” as we got off the phone because he wouldn’t ever say goodbye. Four months since I had to tell him goodbye for the final time.
I came across his pictures today while cleaning my house and the tears were instantly running down my cheeks. I don’t live near him and I never spoke to him on a day-to-day basis. It’s easy for me to get lost in my life and not have it in my face that he is gone. When I saw his face in those pictures I was starkly reminded and I broke down with ugly tears.
I sit and cry and feel the pain of his death as though it was just yesterday. Time may dull it at some point but that time hasn’t come for me yet. This pain of not having my father in this life with me is so strange. I feel as though I am living a nightmare again and again. A world without him in it, is such a weird world to live in.
This past week I have been re-living the day of his death. Reliving the phone call, the wailing and the tears as my husband was on the phone and told me how serious the situation was. The late night packing, early morning flights in which I cried for hours on. Crying through TSA as we almost missed our flight and I had to say the words for the first time “My father is dying”. The walking into his hospital room and seeing him flatline as soon as we touched him. Watching as the doctors worked on him for what felt like hours and Rob holding me as I sobbed knowing that he wasn’t coming back to us. Sitting with my siblings as we surrounded my mom through the signing of the DNR. Surrounding him at his bedside as we watched his heartbeat fade on the monitor and we cried as we said goodbye. Holding his hands in mine for the final time memorizing the way they held mine for so many years. Putting one foot in front of the other and walking through the hospital doors to continue on with my life not knowing how in the world that would ever happen.
The worst day of my life.
I don’t know why I have been reliving it this week. Why every detail is coming back to me. The pain that is ensuing on a daily basis with no way to fix or heal it. I just cry, and I pray, and I thank God for every moment and year that I did get with him instead of dwelling on all of the regrets that I have.
I know he is still with me. I know that through every day and year of my life that passes, he is in my heart. The sayings that I have, the way that I am detail oriented and a perfectionist, it’s him living in me. I just wish beyond wishes that he was living with me too.
I miss you, Daddy.