January 8, 2012

dear dad

Starting the new year without you was a lot harder than I thought it would be. It was the last year of your life, the last year you and I shared and will ever share again. I cried a little after the clock struck midnight and throughout the day on January 1st. Only, then, I cried for multiple reasons- because your wedding anniversary with Mom is coming up, little brother's birthday and well, mine too. I was already blah about turning 29, this just makes it all that much more worse. C is taking me out of town to celebrate, we're going to Nashville. I'm excited but I'm sure I'll be wishing you were with us every moment. You loved country music and I think that's why I picked that particular destination.

I know you probably hear me talking to you all the time. It's very relieving to talk to you, even if you can't respond. I like feeling you with me everywhere too, I just feel so very loved by you. It's weird because I literally get this warm feeling in my heart and I just *know* it's you. You're with me and I love that so much. I'm going to enjoy taking you along on my journey and knowing you are up there praying for me, guiding me and looking out for me is amazing. But, still, I long for a hug, to hear you laugh and to just be around the man who fathered me and shaped me into who I am.

I've learned to make my grief into a faucet of sorts. I turn it off a lot and when I barely turn it on, it gushes and gushes out. Like tonight, I opened it without meaning to and cried and cried. Watched the slide show of you and cried some more. Of course, now I can't sleep but my sleep habits suck these days anyway. One of the main thoughts that is on repeat in my mind is that I just want to run to you and curl up next to you while you comfort me, while you explain this to me in a way that doesn't completely break my heart. I just want to be with you, with my Daddy, the strong protector you always were to me. I miss you.

In my daily talks with you, I spend a lot of time reminiscing about everything. Laughing and smiling at the memories, which everyone keeps telling me to cherish. And I do, so much and they're wonderful. But they don't compare to the actual man. Never will.

love & miss you


  1. Oh, Amanda, I'm so sorry. I'm obviously WAY too far behind in my blog reading and just learned of your Dad's passing. Cancer is an evil, evil bitch that takes too many of our loved ones. I am so sorry that her bony hands took your Dad as well.

    Seeing my grandmother battle cancer for over 32 years was gut-wrenching. I can't imagine how much more it hurts losing a parent the same way. I wish there was something I could say or do, but I know it won't help.

    Know that you are in my thoughts and prayers. You are not alone - even though you feel like it. Grief is a process. Take it as it comes because you usually aren't ready when it hits you hard out of the blue. You'll never get over losing your Daddy, but you WILL get through this in time. Lots of love . . .

  2. Amanda, I am so so very sorry for your loss. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Please be gentle with yourself - you're grieving right now and everyday life may seem to be insurmountable. But moment by moment, then hour by hour, then day by day things will start to get better in a gradual slow way.