On this day

On this exact day 11 years ago, my father passed away from cancer. I won’t ever forget the details of that day, as much as I wish I could. Probably a subconscious reason why Monday’s are always so dreadful to me.

My life changed so much when he died. I changed so much. I have often sat and thought about how different my life would be now if he hadn’t died. Because when I lost him, I lost a part of myself, and I lost my way for a while. I am definitely not the same person I was before he died.

I still miss him every day. Probably daily I have a question he would know the answer to, or something cool happened he would love to have heard about. I know he has the best seat in the house now, but still.

It’s still too hard to write about the day he died in too much detail, or even the weeks and months leading up to it. Of what it was like caring for my father as he was dying. I can say with certainty that there wasn’t anything left unsaid between us...I loved him and he loved me and we always told each other that. He knew I was sorry for the shit teenager I was, and I believe he was proud of the woman I was becoming.

I sometimes feel like now he wouldn’t be so proud of me...like I flounder most days...but that’s only been since he has been gone, really. Losing him made me question my faith, my own mortality, the point of it all. It’s impossible to fully grasp the weight of it all.

Even though I know he knows my kids in a way no one else can, I still wish he could know them on this earth. But more than having him know them, I think they are the ones missing out in knowing him.

Because he was that good. Because he was that special. Because no one will ever be as good as him, he was one of a kind, an old-school man from another lifetime. Because he was my dad.