Dear Dad

8 months and 2 days. Today is Allan's birthday. I also came home to help mom with the estate sale. I cried on the way up. I cried when I got here. I cried when I went into the shop. I cried when Eric left me alone to wait for mom to get back from her class.

I was in your shop and I became obsessed with taking everything in. But yet, I didn't want to be there. I keep looking for you. I keep wanting to get some sort of feeling of you. But it's not there. I just scoured the house looking for the orange shirt you wore all the time. Mom said she didn't throw it away, but all your stuff is gone from her closet. I saw the picture of you in your orange shirt with Jack when he was just a baby. You look so happy with him. And you're wearing that orange shirt. I have to have to have to touch it. I don't know why. I looked everywhere for it. I couldn't find it. I just don't know where else to look.

I miss you so much it hurts. It hurts almost all the time. I try to keep myself busy but sometimes, it doesn't help.

God I miss you.

Dear Dad

I've stopped counting the days since you've been gone. I don't know if that's because my life has become a crazy whirlwind of time, or if it's because I'm finally starting to heal. But then I wonder, will I ever really heal from this?

I really wish I could talk to you. There are so many times I pass your number in my phone and want to push "talk." There are so many times I wish I could come home and go for a ride on your motorcycle. And once in awhile, I even miss your lectures. Never thought I would have seen that coming!

I really wish I could talk to you about everything that has been going on since you died. It's been so crazy and hectic that I wonder if I've even started to grieve for you yet. It's been so absolutely absurd that I know you would have just shaken your head and said, "Get out when you can." That's what I plan to do.

I miss you terribly at the most random times. Beyond the eagle I saw the last time I wrote, I saw an owl for the first time in the wild a few weeks ago. It was beautiful and huge and right in my back yard! Just like the time I found a random turtle in our front yard, I wanted to call you and just tell you about it. I know you would have been unenthusiastic about it, as you were most times I called you about stupid things like that, but I know you were always glad to hear from me, even if it was about stupid stuff. And it's nice to be able to write this and not burst into tears.

So this owl is just another sign from you, I think. Just another sign that you're still here, somewhere, to show me new things I have never seen before. I know other people will take your place, slowly, and show me other things I've never seen before, but I'll always believe it's just you, working through others that I love just as much as I do you.

I never really got to know you the way that I wanted to get to you know you. Sure, we had our moments, but we didn't have the relationship that I hear other daughters talk about having with their fathers. It's not your fault. You were gone a lot so you could put food on the table, but everything that has been happening in the past months has made me really realize - do I want to miss my kids growing up just so I can put food on the table? Or should I be looking for another job that I can sink my teeth into that will give me just as good of pay, but more time to start and spend with my family. What do you think? You'll have to show me in some way or another...

I'll be watching for you. I love you.

Dear Dad

Today has been 6 months. In those six months, I have not felt more blindsided. I have felt things I have never before and seen things that remind me of you.

I have never seen anything more beautiful than an eagle which swooped down right in front of the car while mom and I were driving back from Mason City one day last week. It was so big and beautiful in the way that it moved I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The lack of noise in the car made it even more surreal and the fact that I couldn't hear the beating of it's wings made it hard for me to believe what was happening less than 30 feet in front of the car. It brought tears to my eyes because I was instantly reminded of you.

You used to show me things that I've never seen before. I remember the first time I saw a loon in Canada, you were the one to point it out. Although I was young, I remember it being beautiful on the lake at twilight. Once we went on a walk together and you put a penny down on the railroad tracks by our house. After the train went by, you picked it up and right there in front of my eyes, it was completely flattened. I remember being completely amazed that a train could do that to a penny. I remember you telling me that you can only do that when the train is moving because if you put a penny in front of the wheel when it's stopped, it can't go anywhere. That information was simply unbelievable to me.

You developed my love for riding motorcycles. I remember the first time I rode with you, I loved the feeling of nothing surrounding me. Instead of the world passing me by, I was passing the world by, feeling weightless and quite frankly, free. It was glorious. I loved and treasured those bike rides with you. You showed me how to make ice cream from scratch. I still remember how it tasted! Nothing like I had had before! You showed me how to make cut-out cookies. And of course, the frosting to go with it. :)

There are so many things I am so grateful for. I'm so grateful to you for so many things.

I miss you showing me things. I miss you.

Dear Dad

I feel inadequate. I feel like an inadequate wife whose husband can't even talk to her anymore without her flying off the handle. I feel like an inadequate sister because I haven't talked to Chris since you died. I feel like an inadequate teacher because I am only remotely excited to go back to school. I feel like an inadequate human being because I look around at other people and wonder why the hell they don't feel like this.

I can't talk about my feelings about this because I simply cannot put them into words. But I'm going to try here:

• My heart breaks wide open anytime I pass Corporate Woods Drive on I-35 Northbound. Sometimes I cry, other times I don't. Most of the time, I just try to bite my lip to keep from feeling like a failure. It's just a fucking exit on the interstate, right? Why does some little green sign have such a grip on my life?
• My stomach jumps into my throat anytime I am caught off-guard by an impromptu memory. Something that I haven't thought about in so long that it takes my breath away.
• I go to your grave and feel absolutely nothing. People keep telling me that you are always with me but when I go to your grave, I don't feel that at all. So I keep looking for some sign - something that tells me they're right. But I look so hard, and all I see is constant reminders that you are never coming back.
• There are sincerely times that I am genuinely happy and for that, I feel guilty. The kind of guilt that swims over you when you realize you've done or said something you shouldn't have.
• Regret. I have horrible regrets. So much so I can't put all of them into words.

I miss you.

Dear Dad

I'm going home tomorrow to plant a tree in your memory. A bunch of your friends are coming and we're planting a big oak tree, since your favorite wood was oak. 

I'm doing ok, but not great. I'm not terrible either. I'm simply middle of the road. Some days I'm numb, some days I'm really angry and some days I feel like I'll be ok. There are several milliseconds of my life that I question my emotional stability, but I try to stay busy so they don't add up to minutes and hours and days and months wondering when I will be ok. One day at a time, right? 

I miss you. More than anything in the world. If I had to give up seeing the sun, smelling fresh cut grass and feeling the breeze on my face to see you one more time, laughing like you always did, I would. Even if it were a millisecond. 

I try to keep mom in good spirits, but I feel like I'm faking it. I always seem to succeed in cheering her up with something, but how is it that I can cheer her up and I can't even do it for myself? I can always share some words of wisdom, but I can't seem to follow the path of that wisdom. I am able to laugh on the phone with her, but I can't seem to laugh on my own. Why is that? 

Mom emailed me at work the other day telling me how she'd had a bad couple of weeks - although I already knew that threw the thousands of conversations we have. I had to put my head on my desk and breathe, cry and recuperate before someone walked into my office. It hurt, I was sad, it brought a lot of things back. 

Why do I have to be the one to comfort her all the time? Why can't Allan and Chris realize that I'm pulling most of mom's grief around with me? I understand we're close because we're both women, I'm her only daughter and the only child of yours that lives within 1000 miles of her, but still. I don't want to be the one to lug it around all by myself. 

I called Allan the other night and he told me he's doing ok. It sounded like he's doing a lot better than I am with everything. Is it because he's over 1000 miles from the situation? From mom crying on the phone? From the chores that you used to do and now Eric and I have to pick up the slack? The fact that they're planting a tree in your memory tomorrow doesn't bother me, but it does bother me that I am the one child obligated to go, simply because of distance. I can't resent them for choosing where they live and what they do, but I do resent them for letting me bear the weight. I love them, but I resent them at the same time. I care about them and how they're doing, but I have not once gotten asked if I'm ok. They have to know everything I'm doing for mom. Mom tells them about it herself. 

I'm frustrated, confused, hurt, sad, angry and resenting my brothers - the men who I love as much as I loved you. 

Even more, I'm missing you like you wouldn't believe. Pictures and memories are just not enough. I need you back. 

Dear Dad

Here's what your death has done to me.

• I sleep a lot and well because I'm always so emotionally exhausted. 
• I have thrown myself into work. Leaving no time for friends, family, or grieving for that matter. I always feel under a deadline and that I have to perform for my best no matter what.
• I feel incredibly guilty anytime I see mom. How can I be having these feelings when she must be having them 10 fold.
• I have thrown myself into books. Take me far far away from here.
• I have no appetite but force myself to eat. The only thing that ever sounds good is spinach and artichoke dip - which I discovered shortly after you died.
• Sometimes I have random flashbacks of you lying on the emergency room table. Or I get this terrible feeling in my heart when I realize it's spring and you were supposed to sharpen our lawn-mower blades, or help us cut ridge cap when we re-shingled our roof.
• I am ornery with my husband for no reason at all and especially when he doesn't deserve it. 
• I lay in bed more often, even when I'm not tired. 
• I'm sad. Not depressed, I don't feel as though I don't want to live anymore. Deep inside, I understand this is a part of life. But why did it have to be a part of my life so soon? That's what makes me sad.

I've taken to reading other people's blogs about losing parents. It helps to know that others have gone or are going through it. It's nice to know my friends care about how I'm feeling, even though I've tried to distance myself from them so they don't get too annoyed with my "sadness." However, reading other people's feelings either bring back some severe feelings of my own, or resentment of other people's remarks regarding that particular blog. Some people seem as though they need to comment, "I'm so sorry for your loss." I get angry at that. 

I had a student tell me the other day she knew what I was going through. Since I know both her LIVING parents very well, I looked at her fiercely and said, "No, no you don't. You have no IDEA what I'm going through." 

The fact that I have to comfort mom every time she calls me crying? 

The fact that I have to put on a "charming" face for my choirs every day, even though I really want to rip my heart out?

The fact that I can't seem to get a grip on when the tears are going to come out? Or the angry outbursts? Or the sadness?

The fact that even after a parent dies, it's not over for a long time. There's still so much to deal with regarding their personal effects and the way you have to handle your family from here on out.

I feel alone, but I know I'm not. But I can't help but feel that way.

God I miss you dad. I miss you so much, it makes my heart ache every day.

Dear Dad

It's been one hell of a few weeks. A week and a half ago, I woke up after a "woulda-coulda-shoulda" dream. I would have run to you first had mom not been in my line of sight, I could have hugged you first and exclaimed "Daddy!" instead of "Mommy!", I should have. Period. I woke up on a rainy morning with this huge hole in my heart. Not the kind of metaphorical hole you might think of when reading that, but an actual hole. I was empty - devoid of any emotions except extreme anger. With myself, with my job, with the students I teach, with my life, and especially, about your death. I was angry with my brothers for not being here physically for mom, I was angry with how it was raining and dark and dreary that morning, I was angry with myself for not actually taking the time to express my excitement for you being at my concert as I did with mom. I got to work and exploded. I haven't sobbed like that since I first heard the news, since I last saw you - dead, in a coffin - and since I finally laid you to rest beneath the ground. The following day - Friday - I met mom to go to the lawyer. They talked about your death, which was excrutiating to hear. I wanted to stop them and scream at them. I wanted to march over to the Clear Lake Fire Department and ask them why the hell they didn't have the tools THERE TO HELP YOU. I wanted to know WHY YOU WERE TAKEN AWAY FROM ME. GOD DAMNIT GOD DAMNIT GOD DAMNIT. 

When I met mom for the appt. at the lawyers, she gave me a sack saying there were some books and things inside that she thought I might like. I took it and absentmindedly threw it in the passenger seat. I didn't think about looking at it until I got home that night. The first thing I took out was your hat. Still smelled like you, the shop, your life. Still had dirt on it. Right there you were in front of my eyes, wearing it the stupid way you always wore it and all of a sudden I couldn't touch it anymore. I laid it on the counter where it stayed for the rest of the night. All of a sudden, I was sobbing again. Sobbing like I did when I heard the news, when I last saw you laying dead in a coffin, when I laid you to rest beneath the ground. GOD DAMNIT. Sobbing like that dreary Thursday morning when I felt empty inside. Empty. GOD DAMNIT. The rest of my weekend, I was exhausted. 

We went home this weekend (one month, 29 days) and my body felt limp when we pulled in the driveway. It was like I couldn't pull my body out of the vehicle. I was dreading going into that house. But I made myself, for mom. I tried to gather myself, but I couldn't stop crying. She led me into the closet you built her (GOD DAMNIT) but I couldn't do it just yet. I needed to do it alone. So I took some time to calm myself and went into your bedroom alone (although I told mom I was looking for chapstick). I just stood there and took it all in - you weren't there anymore. Your presence was gone. Your clothes were gone. Your things were gone. You were gone. It was hard to take in. 

I must have taken too long because mom finally came in. I was so entranced by trying to find SOMETHING left of you (GOD DAMNIT) that she scared me. And then I lost it. I tried to be strong for her, I swear I did. I didn't do a very good job that night. 

Later on we went into the shed - yet another thing I had to brace myself for. Again, your presence was gone. It was hard to keep myself together - I don't know how Eric did it. I could talk, walk, act normal, but I couldn't keep the tears from falling. It was like I was some mutant - perfectly normal except for blurry, tearing eyes and a tear-stained face. 

The next day (one month, 30 days) was better, but I still felt empty. It was the following day (one month, 31 days) that hit me the hardest. I was fine, mom was not. She's so sad - she started sobbing when we were saying our goodbyes. It wrenched my heart out (what's left of it). I could hardly stand to leave her. When we finally got into the car, I yelled at Eric to hurry up and leave. GOD DAMNIT. I couldn't stand slowly pulling out of our driveway, out of town and inevitably, out of her sadness. It needed to be lightening-speed or I wasn't going to make it emotionally. 

You'd be so proud of Eric - he's been the most supportive, loving husband I could ask for. He's done what I've asked when I've said, "Leave me the fuck alone" or "Stop touching me." He's supported me when I'm sobbing and he's not sure what memory (GOD DAMNIT) might have triggered it this time. He's done an awesome job cheering me up when I've needed it. He's been the ideal husband. I don't know what I would do without him. Then again, I wasn't ever sure what I would do without you, and here I am. I've learned that it fucking sucks, that's for sure.

I love you (GOD DAMNIT) and I miss you more. Why did this have to happen?