Dad..

Last night, I went to bed missing my Daddy and this morning, I woke up feeling the same dull pain that I have learned to live with.

On a beautiful, hot (it was Texas) August day, he went out riding his new motorcycle and he didn't come back in the way we expected. The next time I saw my Daddy he was no longer in this world. It's hard to put in to words how missing someone feels. Really, there are no words to express the pain. For months, I woke up screaming or crying or gasping for air. My body's way of dealing with the pain, I guess. And, my mind's way of holding on to the last piece of sane I still had. I never thought I would make it through, honestly. It was hard to see myself out of that despair. My family all handled it in their own ways. We cried together, A LOT. Lots of late night phone calls, trying to help each other by talking about the wonderful times we shared as a family. Or, time spent with close family friends. Or, the fact that my Dad videotaped the day Jason proposed to me. I guess if he couldn't walk me down the aisle, at least I know how excited he was that day. 

I know I was so blessed to have called that man my Dad. Lots of people weren't blessed with great parents like my siblings and I. Conversations I heard between them that I couldn't understand at the time, I do now. I know how much they sacrificed so that we could have things that we needed and lots of time, things we just wanted. Or vacations we took, that honestly they were hard pressed to afford. Those are some of the most wonderful memories that my family likes to reminisce on now. I am so thankful that my parents knew how important those things would be one day. I hope he knew how much I appreciated everything he did for me. I hope he knew that even when we got upset with each other, how much I loved him. I still do. I will never stop loving or missing my Dad. How could I? I knew him my whole life, until he was gone. 

Of course, my Dad was not perfect. I know he messed up. A lot. We all do. But, he also did a lot right. He raised 3 kids who are respectful of others, who love deeply, and have learned to be strong and make it through, because he lived life as though it was wonderful, even when it wasn't. I strive to be better, because that is what he always did. He stayed angry for a short time, then he was grinning and joking with the same person who had hurt/angered/ or frustrated him. He knew life was short. He knew there was not time to hold on to silly grudges that only make you bitter inside.

Sometimes I get upset or angry at people who really don't know loss. They whine and complain about superficial problems and think their lives are so 'terrible.' I guess I have little patience for people like that. I am trying to be more understanding. But, here's the thing, if my family and other families I know who have experienced the magnitude of serious loss, really know what losing is, and can be happy and try to look at things with such a wonderful and positive outlook, remembering how short is; I have little patience for people who have experienced nothing near that and can't get it together and realize how blessed they truly are.

I am not perfect. I know that. At the end of my life, I don't want people to be able to say I took for granted a second. And, I don't want to feel like I took it for granted. I want to look back and be proud of who I was, who I became, how I loved, how I lived. 

I sure hope one day, if everything I've always believed is true, I will see him again. I can only imagine the happy tears. And, the embrace of a man who helped, along with my Mom, mold me into the person I am. And, a lifetime spent with him, that this time, will never end.