Grief is tough. One year ago, I was sitting in my living room at the age of 22 writing a letter about my dad who had passed away so suddenly. Today, I'm sitting in the same living room writing a new letter at the age of 23. The past year has been so bittersweet. After you passed, the few months after were so hard. I cried all the time. I didn't understand why you, of all people, had to be taken from our family. I was so angry, because you deserved so much more time than what you were given. Now, even though I still don't have the answers, I can truly say that time was the only thing that even came close to healing the loss of you. I miss you every single day. The world is still so dim sometimes without your smile. Your laugh. Your eyes. YOU.
In December, I got engaged to the man that you were so excited to call your son. I wanted to call you and tell you so bad. Two weeks before you died, you sat in my living room, and you told me that you weren't getting any younger and you couldn't wait for us to get married and start our life. You were so excited to be a grandpa. I'm still so sorry that you never got to experience that for yourself. I'm still so sad that our future children will never know the warmth and comfort that you brought into any room you went into. They may never get to meet you, but they will know who you are. I'll tell them every chance I get.
In March, I finally took the leap that you'd wanted me to take for so long. I left a job that I adored, and used my schooling to get a bigger and more permanent job. At first, it was incredibly hard. I wanted to run back to my comfort zone and not turn back. I didn't. The voice in my head telling me to "just get it done" was yours. Now, I love my job. Even on the hard days, its so rewarding and I've grown so much. I still doubt myself all the time, but I have a lot of support from the people around me. That process was one of the scariest things I've ever done. You would have been so happy for me and you would've been my biggest supporter. I miss you telling me that everything would turn out, and no matter what you would be proud of me. I can say that I'm finally proud of me too, dad.
In April, I had my first birthday without you. I got all of my memories on Facebook from previous years of you posting on my timeline. That was so hard. I was in Ohio for WGI Finals, and all I could think about was wanting to talk to you. I ended up having a great day, but I won't try to pretend like it wasn't one of those moments where I wished for nothing more than to hear your voice.
In June, Mom spent your anniversary without you. I know that day was probably one of the hardest for her since you passed. You were her soulmate. I don't think there will ever be another person in the world that could make her laugh like you could. You'd be proud to see how far she has come in the last year. We also finally went to Disney. I wish you could've seen Hunters face.
In August, Hunter started middle school. Walking him through those hallways made me realize how much your death caused him to grow up. He misses you so much. He can finally talk about you and he brings you up often. One of his teachers is so much like you. I honestly think that has helped him adjust. I hope he knows how much you loved him. You always told anyone you were around anything you could about your boy. You always were so excited for us to learn and grow and you never missed an opportunity to spend time with us. I know he misses that just as much as the rest of us.
Now, in September, marks the year since you passed. This month last year was the last time I saw you. Exactly 10 days before you passed, you brought me a basket of the last vegetables from the garden we built together (as an excuse to come to my apartment and just sit and talk with me) and we talked for a couple hours. We made plans to go get lunch together when I got back from my trips that month. I'm sad to say that by the time I was able to come home you were already in the hospital, and the next time I saw you, we didn't even get a proper goodbye. I held your hand, and told you that I loved you so much and that if it was your time to leave, then you could go. Its the hardest thing I ever had to say to you. You had already fought so hard though, that I couldn't be selfish to you. I wanted you to find the peace that you deserved so much, and I know now that you did.
I miss you more. I love you more. Save a seat for me.
With all the love in my heart,
B
