My life is divided into two parts. With dad, and without dad. Thankfully, the time without dad is a much shorter period, but I still find it hard to comprehend the fourth anniversary of his passing.
I never thought we'd be apart. In my head I always imagined we'd die at the same time. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. The thought of him not being alive was scary, but sometimes the alternative is even worse.
I'm not even sure what I want to say to commemorate four years of being alone. Just that it's been different. Very different. I'm grateful that dad is where he should be, away from the bullshit and lies he hated so much. He always said "I wasn't made for this world" and maybe I wasn't either. Dad just wanted to live in peace. It didn't take much to make him happy, although happiness could be elusive.
I wonder still how much time dad spends checking in on me, mom, and the rest of the family. I've read so many theories about death, dying, the human spirit, and life after death. But until it happens to me, I won't really know exactly the way it is. I hope he's living his best eternal life with all the people he missed who left before him. Most notably his mom. And Cindy, our dog, along with so many other pets.
I hope dad can see that I'm still his daughter, and I think of him every day. I feel bad I don't listen to the same music we listened to near the end. It's just too sad. I don't really watch baseball anymore either. Without him, it just doesn't seem to matter. Aside from the fact that the Red Sox stink anyway.
I'll always have my own memories of me and dad, although the best ones are of the most boring, ordinary events, if you can call them that. Just life. Hanging out, going for endless long rides, sitting in the car listening to his mix tapes or talk radio. My dad was my best friend, and hell, he still is. Do I talk to him? Sure. I hope he can hear me. I like to think those butterflies and cardinals really are a sign that he is nearby every so often.
There's not much more I can say, although I could fill a book about everything my dad meant and still does mean to me. He had a legacy that I feel slipping away with each passing day. I spent so much time with him, and all his stories of his youth, lessons of life, and are etched in my mind. But the details are fading like a photograph left in the sun. We used to watch "American Graffiti", and we talked about how the things that happened to him during his youth would have been a great screenplay. But his colorful life might be harder to believe than reality. I doubt it will ever be written.
I'm having a hard time putting my feelings into words, but maybe you'll understand if you've lost your dad. How could someone who was so real now feel so unreal? Occasionally I have a dream, and dad is there like he never left. But now, it's impossible to believe he's been gone four years while at the same time, it's like he was never here at all. I don't understand, but maybe I'm not supposed to.
Dad used to talk about his mother, and how he was amazed at the way she missed her father. She told him that she thought about her dad every day since he passed, and this was several decades by then. But I think every girl who was close to their dad wouldn't be amazed at all. And now my dad knows that he is missed the same way.
Thanks for everything, Dad.
I miss you
But I love you even more.
