Year 3

I never had to look at the calendar today to know what day it was. My heart knew, even my joints knew. Memories quickly fill my mind. Every image vividly appears. It all feels so close. However, in other ways, the loss of my dad seems as if it took place in another life time. Life has changed drastically, but my heart continues to hurt and my vision clouds with tears.If I’m honest, the third anniversary of my dad passing away is harder than the second year. I’ve missed his presence at the events occurring in my life. It’s hard to fathom he missed my wedding. Life is moving forward, but I want him to be a part of it all.  I think, at times, I hold onto the grief because it is my last connection to my dad. If I let go of the hurt, then it feels like I’m accepting life without him. I don’t want to accept that; although, I know I must.

Today, I hit my head on a chair. It was as if the chair was trying to pull me into the present as my mind was engulfed in memories. Although, I don’t want to be stuck in the past, I feel it’s necessary to record some wonderful things I remember about my dad.

1. Snow covered the ground and I needed to get back to school. Dad followed behind me in his car to make sure I arrived safely to my dorm.

2. I got a flat tire on my way to student teaching. He drove out, after working all day, to help me change my tire. I can still see him struggling with a tight bolt, but he was determined to help me.

3. My dad always had the best chips on his plate at lunch. I would always sneak a few off his plate. I know he knew I did it, but it never seemed to bother him.

4. I remember standing on his feet, in the living room, and dancing with him. He always said he would practice up for my wedding. I hope he’s ready to dance with me when I join him in heaven.

5. He would come home for lunch each day. And each day he would fall asleep in his chair watching Perry Mason. I miss seeing him sitting in that chair.

I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to feel sad. I would like to sit and have a diet coke with my dad.