To You,

I used to say that I didn’t know how I would be if I lost you, but I never imagined it would be this bad. We just passed the one year mark, and it feels surreal. Somehow I still find myself thinking you are still here and that you never died, even though I know you did. I’m not sure if that is just me wishing it or my brain thinking it. The kids ask about you at least once a week. I know that they understand you aren’t coming back, but all of us have that wish that one day magic could be a real thing and could work to get you back to us.

This feeling of you being gone isn’t something new for me, even though circumstances are vastly different. Growing up, there were many times you were just not there and we went a while without seeing you, and that may be why I have those days confused still. I know that there is no coming back this time, though, but I guess I (like many) still have that childhood side of my brain where I go back to sometimes and do count down until I will see you again.

I hate that I only had a few short years of a relationship with you before you were gone. I know that was my own stubborn doing, but it doesn’t hurt any less. I finally had my dad in my life 110%. I called YOU when I needed to talk to someone, I cried to you when I missed home, I turned to you for anything music related. I would text you every day to say hello it seemed like, and I loved when you would tell me you were coming to the house or just randomly stopped by. I loved having my dad around, and now you aren’t here and it hurts. It hurts so bad.

I don’t cope well with big changes, and once again you made a huge change in my life. Wait, that isn’t fair to say. This wasn’t something you could control. Even still, it shifted my whole world. I distanced myself from everyone. There were full weeks I didn’t want to talk to a single person because I couldn’t talk to you. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to mom, or Amber, or Kiki, or the kids. It wasn’t fair to me. And after I distanced myself, I turned back into the person I used to be. I started fights over nothing, I said hateful things, I showed that “dark side” you used to say I had. I thought about doing worse things than that too, but I heard you yelling at me in my head, so I didn’t.

I got frustrated when people would say that they dreamt of you or felt you with them because none of those things happened to me. I would talk to you every day and never felt that. I didn’t dream of you and once again, I didn’t think that was fair. I was told that it meant I wasn’t ready for it but I couldn’t understand what that meant. How was I not ready to see my dad? So naturally, I was mad all over again. My coping skills were all over the place. I turned back to alcohol to the point that Amber threated to lock up all the alcohol, I smoked way too many cigarettes a day, I didn’t sleep, I either didn’t eat or I binge-ate. I didn’t cry. I had no emotion at all.

I lost myself for the millionth time in my life, but for the first time, I didn’t see a way out. I was screaming on the inside for help but never asked for it. It was as if I liked the suffering but also wanted it to stop. I could see I was hurting everyone that I cared about. I was worrying not only the adults but also the kids.

I wanted to turn back to all the bad habits I was finally freed from, but once again couldn’t because I knew how hurt you would be seeing it. I wanted everything to stop hurting. I wanted the pain to go away and I didn’t know how to get rid of it without making a permanent decision I could never take back because it would be too late.

It got to the point where Amber told me I either needed to let them help me get better or I was going to get professional help to finally snap me into trying to get back to normalcy. I didn’t want to go to a doctor because the thought of having to tell them everything that would run through my mind terrified me. I knew that if I did that they would admit me to a hospital and I didn’t want to go. I was scared that they would force me to go on medication that I didn’t want to be on. I feared everything suddenly and all I wanted was you to tell me it would all get better. Amber and Mom both tried to make me understand that I needed to talk to someone and soon, but I didn’t want to listen. All I knew was that you were gone and you weren’t coming back no matter what I did.

I hate that I was the last person to see you too. It’s not fair. I don’t want it to be like that. I shouldn’t have been that person. Mom should have. And if I wasn’t there that weekend, it would have been her and not me. And I blame myself for mom not being the last goodbye. I hate that I didn’t call Amber while we were on our way to the house so she could come see you. I hate that we were there after the kids went to school so they didn’t get to say goodbye. I hate all of it. It’s a year later and people say I should be over all of that, but I don’t understand how to get over it. I’ve been hurt and have lost people before, but this one is so different. You are different.

We talk as if you are still here and people get so confused when we are talking about you and people ask where you are and we must tell them that you passed away because they think you are alive by how we say things. Not a day passes by where we don’t say you would enjoy either something we did or something we said. On good days, we all talk about things you would do, or when we hear a strange noise we say it’s you. On bad days, we don’t talk about it. Or, at least, I don’t.

I miss you so much. I don’t know when this will get easier, but I want you to know I am trying. I’m trying to be me again. The good me, the one you were proud of. I hope you are up there with everyone else we’ve lost having a laugh but keeping an eye on what’s going on down here because everyone knows we need it. Good days are starting to be more often than bad, and that must be a good sign.

I love you dad. Fly High.