Letters to Dad

So, Dad…are you really able to hear me from Heaven?

I think about this a good bit and wonder if those in Heaven can truly hear us or if that is something we believe to bring us comfort. I had no idea when I woke up today that this would be another day that I would cry so hard missing you.

Sometimes I feel like I am just kicking along, doing pretty good….even able to smile at pictures of you and then BAM—right back to total and utter devastation that you are gone.

It hits you like a brick in the face and a punch to the gut.

I’d get up, dry my eyes, blow my nose and sit back down. Two seconds later, tears are streaming down my face. I just stare out the window wondering why all of this had to happen—and so fast after we found out the cancer was back.

It all started today when I got up and grabbed some paperwork that had come in the mail related to some money you left for my family and me. This paperwork is the exact same as some I know I have already filled out…and it’s all so confusing and frustrating. I swear they make what could be a page or two of a form into a booklet just to make all of this even harder than it already is when you have lost a loved one. It’s so tempting to want to ask some of these companies if they feel good about making things so hard—because if that isn’t the case they sure could have fooled me.

I want you back so much more than any amount of money in this world. There is no monetary value for what you were (and are) to me.

Thankfully we are moving everything to one place that has been extremely helpful and kind—but I’m sitting here looking at this paperwork, not fully understanding what the difference in things like annuities are vs life insurance policies and wishing I wasn’t having to see at the top of the page: William George, Deceased. It still cuts into my heart every time I see this printed somewhere. Every.single.time.

I miss the twinkle in your eye and your genuinely kind smile. Everything about you was genuine and everything you did was with good intentions and for the benefit of others. I think about the time I didn’t spend with you and the tears just roll down my face.

I think about all the weekends that we didn’t work it out to come over and see you or the ones where we came but maybe one or both kids stayed behind for different (painfully trivial in hindsight) reasons. I wish so badly I had just made it more of a priority no matter what we had going on. You were always understanding though; I just had no idea how little time we had left.

People will tell you to make the most of your time, call your loved ones, go see your loved ones….I wish I would have listened more. You always think you will have more time, until you don’t.

Sometimes I will be doing something and out of nowhere, it hits me that you will not be at Lucy or William’s high school graduation, college graduation, weddings or get the chance to be a great-granddad. I know so many others have lost their fathers even sooner than I lost you, but I can’t for the life of me understand why God would take such a wonderful person away who was really enjoying life and who loved his family more than anything in this world.

There is a picture I keep seeing on my phone that is from November 4th of last year. It’s an “action-shot” of you sitting in your chair in the den. You have your legs stretched out and feet crossed on the ottoman, and you are scratching Buffy’s head. It had to be one of the very first times you met Buffy since we had just gotten her on the 28^th of October. She went right to you; dogs always know which people are the good ones.

This picture is one of the last ones I have where things still seemed normal. It’s not a posed picture, just a glimpse of a regular evening. Those “regular” moments you’d given anything to have more of. You look great in the picture – your normal weight and normal color of your skin. You weren’t in any pain (that I knew of) and you just appear laid back and content. Like you always were.

I really do hope that you can hear me. I want to believe you can, but I also know that despite what we believe and hope for—we really can’t know for sure until we get there.

I begged for more signs when James died and while I believe I got some…they seemed to have stopped years and years ago and I was left wondering if any of them were really signs or just my longing to receive signs from him. I’d be lying to say I don’t wonder that sometimes now. Like—do we maybe get some signs from our loved ones for a period following their death and then we stop receiving them so that we can better move forward? I don’t know any more than the next person, but for now—when I see a cardinal I will believe it is some sort of sign from you. When I see a butterfly or a dragon fly that comes closes and sort of hangs out for a minute—I choose to believe it could be sign from you.

My heart aches so much that I even stop now and have a moment when I see the time is 11:11—because I have read about those who believe there is some significance to this number as a sign of an angel. Might sound silly, but this is a short excerpt from something I read online after a quick Google search: “It is a number sign that means the Creator’s angels come with love and protection, and they want to bring you clarity and guidance at this time. The presence of 11:11 in one’s life is a message that the angels are watching over you and signifies that your guardian angels may be near or wishing to communicate with you.”

Now, who knows how much truth there is to this—but in this moment, I choose to find comfort in the possibility.

I’ll keep talking to you, Dad and I pray that you can hear me. I love you thiiiissssss much!

Your lil’dah-ling, Amanda