a lifetime ago

I know I haven’t written about everything with my Dad in awhile and believe me, it isn’t because I’m not thinking about it constantly.  It is honestly  just too hard to put to words the range of emotions that happens each day.  Losing someone so close to you is a complex thing and there are just so many moving parts of your day that are affected.

I have a pit in my stomach before I even open my eyes, I drive to work reciting the prayer on the back of the card given out at his visitation, I walk up the stairs at my work remembering each step when I ran down to hear the news from Jordan in the lobby, I look at my girls and think about how they’ll never know him, I see Jordan and know how hard that day must have been for him, I talk to my sisters & mom and know we are all experiencing the deepest pain we’ve ever known.

Will it ever let up?  Will the days get easier?

I recently downloaded the most amazing app, Timehop.  If some of you notice, they have a little bit of integration within Facebook so sometimes it’ll show you what you posted on Facebook that exact day last year or 4 years ago or even 10 years ago.  I downloaded the actual app so it can pull in pics from my phone, Instagram, and Facebook.  I look at it every day and it blows my mind how different life is.

More recently, I have been getting pictures and videos of Dad.  It makes me so happy to see them and for a split second I forget that these moments are the last that I would share with him.  Once I realize the gravity of the situation, it practically cripples me.

I look back at these pictures longing to be that person.  The one who just looks so genuinely happy and whose biggest worry was waking up for class or even having Bea make it through surgery.  That sounds crazy right?  Like that worry seems to trump anything I feel now but it doesn’t.  When everything was going on with Bea I held on to a tremendous amount of hope.  I rarely let my mind go to the “what ifs” and focused solely on getting her back to a healthy place.  There was always hope.

Now, there isn’t hope that I will get to see Dad as a grandpa or hope that he lives to see them walk down the aisle.  There isn’t hope that we will go on our morning walks in Longboat Key or get our business man specials at the Echo.  There isn’t hope that when I walk through the door at Sunday night dinner I hear “DEEEEDERRRR” or that I can hug the biggest, warmest Dad when I am having a hard day.

However, I try to think that I will get to see him again one day.

It’s just going to be a long, long time before I do.






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