This day is never great. It always catches me off guard, even though I know it's coming. And this morning I realized that today marks ten years since my dad died. I don't really feel like it could have been ten years already. And so much has happened in my life that I haven't been able to share with my dad since we lost him to cancer.
I got my first teaching job. One of my last big milestones I got to share with my dad was graduating from college. I remember how proud he was of me that day and I remember the feeling of seeing him in the audience at my graduation. We went out for a family dinner afterwards, but he didn't join us. He wasn't feeling well. That was in December. This happened again when we were on a family vacation to NYC on New Year's Eve. We have some amazing friends that had hotel rooms for us all to celebrate the ball dropping in Times Square. That's right. Times Square. I saw Regis. We talked. I have a picture to prove it. But it's like a REAL picture. Not a digital one. And I'm not sure where it is located at this time in my life. But it exists. I swear.
But my dad was in the hotel room when the ball dropped. Because he wasn't feeling well. And just a couple weeks after that we learned all this not feeling well was due to the small cell lung cancer taking over his body.
Since I lost my dad I fell in love. Got married. He didn't get to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. But before he died, my daddy did get to walk me down the aisle. I suppose that was truly the last big milestone I got to experience with my dad. We set up a perfect little afternoon at my church. I got to have the walk down the aisle with my daddy that every little girl dreams of. And my dad got to walk with me. We danced. He gave me a beautiful pearl necklace that was my grandmother's. I wore it my wedding day. I treasure that necklace. It was such a sweet day for us. And although he didn't get to come to my actual wedding day, he was a part of it. And I had that beautiful memory as I walked down the aisle without him.
David never met my dad. We had just become friends when my dad died. He came to his funeral, but never met him. I tell him about my dad all the time, but I really struggle that he didn't know him. He couldn't possibly understand the kind of person my dad was just with stories. He was such a huge personality. Such a big piece of me. I think if David had known my dad he would see so much of him in me.
We brought our beautiful first babies home from Ethiopia since my dad died. I've had my first pregnancy. And am in the middle of my second. My dad would adore my babies. He would love our three boys so much and this sweet little lady on the way too. I know he would. He would be an amazing grandpa, and it breaks my heart that my kids are robbed of that and they don't even know it.
I've grown so much from that fresh out of college - no job or money to my name - girl I was when my dad died. And I'm not embarrassed by that girl. That was one of the most important times of my life. Thankfully I only had a basic office job to pay the bills while I searched for my teaching job. My employers were amazing, and I could come and go as I pleased. This weird "non-career" time in my life allowed me to go to every doctor's appointment and chemo appointment for my dad that I could make it to. I learned everything I could about his cancer and drugs. I spent more time with him during these months than I had in the previous few years. And I'll always treasure that time I got with my dad.
I wish he knew me now. I wish my kids could sit on his lap, and get tickled by him. I wish they could experience his ridiculous jokes and quick wit. I wish I could get advice from him. And share my joys with him.
It's been ten years and it still hurts just the same. I think I'm a little surprised by that. I get caught up in all the feelings I had on that day ten years ago when he took his last breath. I still feel like there is someone else I need to call when I have big news to share. I still want to stop by his work just to chat every time I'm in the area. I still miss his homemade breakfasts. I miss it all. And I know that I always will. But it still catches me off guard every year.
Ten years, dad. It feels like yesterday. And I still miss you just the same.
I got my first teaching job. One of my last big milestones I got to share with my dad was graduating from college. I remember how proud he was of me that day and I remember the feeling of seeing him in the audience at my graduation. We went out for a family dinner afterwards, but he didn't join us. He wasn't feeling well. That was in December. This happened again when we were on a family vacation to NYC on New Year's Eve. We have some amazing friends that had hotel rooms for us all to celebrate the ball dropping in Times Square. That's right. Times Square. I saw Regis. We talked. I have a picture to prove it. But it's like a REAL picture. Not a digital one. And I'm not sure where it is located at this time in my life. But it exists. I swear.
But my dad was in the hotel room when the ball dropped. Because he wasn't feeling well. And just a couple weeks after that we learned all this not feeling well was due to the small cell lung cancer taking over his body.
Since I lost my dad I fell in love. Got married. He didn't get to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. But before he died, my daddy did get to walk me down the aisle. I suppose that was truly the last big milestone I got to experience with my dad. We set up a perfect little afternoon at my church. I got to have the walk down the aisle with my daddy that every little girl dreams of. And my dad got to walk with me. We danced. He gave me a beautiful pearl necklace that was my grandmother's. I wore it my wedding day. I treasure that necklace. It was such a sweet day for us. And although he didn't get to come to my actual wedding day, he was a part of it. And I had that beautiful memory as I walked down the aisle without him.
David never met my dad. We had just become friends when my dad died. He came to his funeral, but never met him. I tell him about my dad all the time, but I really struggle that he didn't know him. He couldn't possibly understand the kind of person my dad was just with stories. He was such a huge personality. Such a big piece of me. I think if David had known my dad he would see so much of him in me.
We brought our beautiful first babies home from Ethiopia since my dad died. I've had my first pregnancy. And am in the middle of my second. My dad would adore my babies. He would love our three boys so much and this sweet little lady on the way too. I know he would. He would be an amazing grandpa, and it breaks my heart that my kids are robbed of that and they don't even know it.
I've grown so much from that fresh out of college - no job or money to my name - girl I was when my dad died. And I'm not embarrassed by that girl. That was one of the most important times of my life. Thankfully I only had a basic office job to pay the bills while I searched for my teaching job. My employers were amazing, and I could come and go as I pleased. This weird "non-career" time in my life allowed me to go to every doctor's appointment and chemo appointment for my dad that I could make it to. I learned everything I could about his cancer and drugs. I spent more time with him during these months than I had in the previous few years. And I'll always treasure that time I got with my dad.
I wish he knew me now. I wish my kids could sit on his lap, and get tickled by him. I wish they could experience his ridiculous jokes and quick wit. I wish I could get advice from him. And share my joys with him.
It's been ten years and it still hurts just the same. I think I'm a little surprised by that. I get caught up in all the feelings I had on that day ten years ago when he took his last breath. I still feel like there is someone else I need to call when I have big news to share. I still want to stop by his work just to chat every time I'm in the area. I still miss his homemade breakfasts. I miss it all. And I know that I always will. But it still catches me off guard every year.
Ten years, dad. It feels like yesterday. And I still miss you just the same.
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