August 22, 2015

Since he's been gone

My Dad's birthday was this week, he would have turned 58. I imagine we all would have gone out to eat and then gathered around him with a cake lit with bunches of candles. He'd tease the grandkids, my big brother and him would talk about work, and he'd bicker with my Mom over mundane things. It would be the same scene that played out over and over throughout the years. Funny how you don't realize how much the same ol' thing means to you until you don't have it anymore.

Instead, we all spent the day pulled into different directions. Acknowledging the day through group texts and a quick mention when we did happen to see each other. Only a couple of us made it to the cemetery, something I feel extremely guilty about now because I didn't make it out there. I was too swamped with work, playing catch up after a weekend spent at the hospital with my sick grandma. I was up late that night, after the house had long gone silent. I made my way outside to sit beneath the dark sky and just started talking to my Dad. Wished him a happy birthday, if he even celebrates it in Heaven. Told him how much I miss and love him, reminisced a little. I made my way back inside afterward and crept into bed next to a man whom my Dad never laid eyes on. It just struck me as so very odd. And incredibly sad.

Almost daily I remark to M how much I wish they could have met. How sad I am that he will never meet the man who is my hero. My Dad only exists to him through memories and pictures, which never really capture the true essence of a person. And really, how could they? How could they convey how truly funny, sarcastic, and strong a person was? A picture doesn't tell you the way they spoke with a Texas twang, or the goofy laugh he did when truly amused by something. It doesn't reveal the man who always had an answer, who could explain every heartache in a way that made sense, or who was always up for a good adventure. They fail to show him the greatest man I've ever known. The man who helped make me the woman I am. The woman M loves so much, the woman who fought tooth and nail to be this person he adores.

I so wish things were different. I wish he were here to see all the life that has happened since he's been gone. I wish I could talk to him, see him, hug him, laugh with him. I guess I'll always wish for more of him. People tell me that's just a part of living life with a deceased loved one. Always wishing for just one more day.

I gotta be honest, it's a real bitch.

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