Throughout the string of events called life, I had always considered the "what ifs". The "what if" one or both of my parents were killed in a car accident? How would I take the news? How would my family react? What would happen? Through all of the "what ifs", the one I didn't consider was "what if" I know the death of a loved one is approaching, but I'm still not prepared when it comes? I certainly never considered sitting and listening to my dad take his last breath. I sat, surrounded by my family, and listened to my mom tell my dad that it was okay to go. That he could dance on the streets of gold while he waited for her to get there. At that moment I prayed, I begged, I pleaded with God to take him away so he wouldn't be in pain anymore. When God answered my prayer, when I heard my dad take his final breath at 1:20 A.M. on Thursday, August 6th, I immediately wanted to yell at Him for taking my daddy from me. For once in my life, I wasn't mad at God for ignoring me, I was mad at Him for giving me the very thing I requested.
I miss him in the little things every day. I miss him in the "then it hit me" moments.
I finished my meet the teacher letter and wanted him to proofread it.
I pulled out my phone to e-mail him a copy...then it hit me.
I was at a gas station and a sign had a grammatical error.
I pulled out my phone, took a picture, as was about to send it to him...then it hit me.
My tired looked low.
I pulled out my phone and went to text him to ask how to check it...then it hit me.
Henry and Eleanor did something gross.
I pulled out my phone to give him a laugh...then it hit me.
I watched a movie we both loved.
I pulled out my phone to send him a movie quote...then it hit me.
I was walking out of a movie theater and wanted to know what movie this actor had been in before.
I pulled out my phone and started to ask him...then it hit me.
I man-handled my dryer inside all by myself.
I pulled out my phone to brag about how strong I was...then it hit me.
I couldn't get my dryer cord and hose hooked up.
I pulled out my phone to ask him how...then it hit me.
Mom sent me an insurance card for my car. Dad's name wasn't on it.
I pulled out my phone to tell him there was a mistake...then it hit me.
I broke 100 while bowling.
I pulled out my phone to tell him...then it hit me.
My birthday is fast approaching. I know that this year there will be no paper towel with "Birthday Breakfast Bacon" written on it(the real kind, not turkey). There will be no flowers in my bathroom when I wake up. There will be no card on my steering wheel. No birthday hug. No birthday whisker kisses. No birthday Chinese food with him while watching TV.
I can hear his laugh. I can hear his sigh of exasperation(because I do it so often as well). I can smell him. I can see him. I can even feel him. But it's not the same.
I know there will be lots more of "then it hit me" moments. But I love those moments. As much as they hurt, and cause me to tear up, they help me remember how much I love him, and how much I know he loved me. They help me remember how much he would have loved my future kids. They will never get the chance to sit in his lap, or be engulfed in one of his hugs. My future husband will never get the chance to meet my first love who set the high standard he has to live up to. But those "then it hit me" moments allow me to experience a piece of dad every day. Tomorrow Henry and Norris are going to get groomed. I know that when they get done I will have a moment when I want to send a picture to him...and then it will hit me. I'm ready for it. I'm ready to experience him again tomorrow, and every day for the rest of my life.