Hey Dad,
I am still trying my best to move forward without you here. Some days I am doing okay. But other days….whew…it feels like I just attended your funeral. Some days it’s as if I am starting all over with the grieving process.
There are things like: at first, I was able to go to your house and spend time and enjoy the big open space…remembering the good times spent there. Lately, that just hasn’t been the case. I can barely go over there because when I get there all I can see and feel is your absence.
We plan to go over there tomorrow to cook/eat dinner — and I have some anxiety about it. It’s weird. A place that used to embody safeness, warmth, love….now feels so empty and tends to trigger tears.
It’s so weird how emotions fluctuate and things that didn’t bother me at first now bother me some… and vice versa. I have no idea why this happens, only that it just tends to happen.
I don’t want to feel sad at your house, but I always find myself walking into your room….can’t miss your tennis shoes that are still out on a little stool. (I can’t bring myself to move them either). Usually, my eyes start watering right then and I make my way through the bathroom to your closet. I just stand there. I look at all your shirts you wore to “the dealership” and all your shoes and the tears just fall.
I haven’t been able to make myself donate any of your clothes or shoes yet. I want to—and I know you would want me to—and I plan to…. but I just can’t do it right now. I know you aren’t coming back for those things, but they are your things. They are some of the last things I have left of what was a part of you being here and things being “normal.”
Recently, Lucy was inducted into the National Honor Society. Before it was about time to go to the ceremony, I went into her room to see if she was ready. She was just sitting on the bed (looking absolutely beautiful in her white dress) and I could tell she looked sad. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, “What is even the point of going tonight if Bug isn’t going to be there?”
Ooof. That one got me; sort of stunned me a little. I felt that jolt to my heart that happens every time I realize you are missing another event you would otherwise be at with bells on.
I told her that I understood and that in ways we don’t fully understand, I believe he would get to see her walk the stage. Sometimes I briefly forget how losing you affected the kids. I think the impact you had on them continues to reveal itself more as time moves along and your absence is felt more and more.
I sure wish you could be here to watch me follow my dreams of writing and art. I know you would be proud. I know you ARE proud; I just don’t get the big proud hug from you that I miss so much. The one where you hug real-tight and tell me you are proud—as if your twinkling eyes and beaming smile didn’t already let me know.
Please keep watching over me and helping me through each day. Love you, Bug.
Your favorite daughter, Amanda