A Conversation With My Dad

My first Father's Day without my Dad is almost over.
Even though I have been dreading it, it was even harder than I expected it would be.

I could not let it end without writing this.

I miss my Dad. If he were still here, or if he is in some way listening from somewhere, here is what I would say to him:

Dad, I miss you.
Cooper is getting so big. Everyone says he looks just like me. Do you think so?
What is your favourite flavour of ice cream? I can't remember and it makes me so sad.
I have a hard time talking about you to anyone. Even/especially mom.
I want to know that you are okay. I wish there was some way that you could tell me that you are.
We are going home in a week and I am happy and scared at the same time. All of my summer Nova Scotia memories include you.
Mom feels your presence at the house. I hope I will too.
Jacob remembers you and knows you from the pictures we have of you and him together. I don't want him to forget.
He is growing up so fast. You guys would have had so much fun together this summer. So much fun.
Are you proud of me?
When I go for walks or am by the water, I always think of you.
I miss the sound of your laugh, your corny jokes and your made-up words.
Cooper is just about walking and can say yes, more and loves to give Jacob hugs and kisses.
I pretend all the time that you are not really gone.
When we think about starting a new project around the house, the first person I think of calling is you.
Randy wants to repair a hole in the drywall while I am away. Should I hide his tools?
I wish had taken more pictures of you and with you.
I don't believe in heaven or God really, but I hope so much that you somehow are watching over Mom.
Can you see my boys and how perfect they are? How sweet and funny and perfect?
I'll never forget our walks, the way you treated me like a little girl even in my 30s and the way you 'sang' your sentences.
You were a GREAT dad and wonderful grandfather.
I miss you Dad. I miss you every single day and I hate that you are gone.

happy father's day

Girlfriends

This post is for my girlfriends from Nova Scotia.

My friends through thick and thin {and I am not just talking about my waistline}.
My friends even though I make it home only once a year.
My friends that make me laugh until I cry.
My friends that know all of my old secrets.
My friends that still know how to party like it's 1999.

My friends that were there for me during the worst part of my life.

I am sorry.

Sorry for distancing myself from you all when you were so good to me. The only way I can explan it is this:
I have not been able to deal with losing my Dad. I can't talk about it yet. So talking to my friends that knew him and that know me so well has been scary for me. It makes it seem more real and I worried that your kindness and sympathy would break my control over my emotions.

It is slowly getting a little easier and I miss you girls so much (even if it is just a quick chat on facebook) so I hope you understand and forgive me.

I am now open for business (let's just avoid one topic for now if you don't mind).

Love,
Your Least Conservative Friend xoxo

My Dad's Birthday

Today is a tough one for me. It is supposed to be my dad's birthday. He would be 65.

I have been trying to think of the best way to mark this day. Dad's favourite drink was Coke. He drank it all day every day. I have not been able to touch it. I thought I could drink a toast to him today but I am not ready. Strange, I know, but I can't go near it without feeling sick.

It has been really hard to think of anything to do in his honour because I actually don't believe he is gone. I wonder if that feeling ever goes away? I am also finding it impossible to talk about him with anyone, even my family, because it makes it real and I can't control my emotions yet.

We did come up with a way to think of him today that I can handle though.

My Dad loved the zoo. He went to the Toronto Zoo with my son and husband on his last visit here so my mom, brother and sister and I decided we would remember him today by adopting a gorilla in his name. I think he would like that.

happy birthday Dad xoxo

My Dad

Nothing can prepare you for that early morning phone call telling you that someone you love is gone forever.

My older brother had the unbearable task of calling me at 5:40 in the morning 4 weeks ago to tell me that our father was gone. I did not know it was possible to feel so much pain. I was inconsolable. What kept running through my mind, and still does, was that he died 9 days before I was heading home to Nova Scotia to see him. 9 days. 9 days. 9 days.

My husband, who has been so amazing and supportive, had us all on a plane and home that night. We said goodbye to my dad two days later. I had a panic attack for the first time in my life that morning. How was I going to be strong for my mom? In the end I wasn't. It was such a shock to see my dad that I didn't handle it well.

My dad was out for a walk, doing what he loved. He didn't suffer. He lived for 17 years after quadruple bipass surgery. He walked me down the isle at my wedding. He met my two boys. All of these things should make me feel luckier than some, including my husband who lost his dad 8 years ago. But it doesn't. All I feel is heartbroken, cheated, angry and lost.

Most of all I feel denial.

It is so much easier to pretend that he is not gone and to imagine he is just out and will be back again soon. I wonder when it will sink in that he is really gone forever? I spend every moment on the verge of tears thinking of the what ifs and wishing it wasn't true. I didn't know that grief could be so physically painful. I took a pregnancy test today because I was worried the nausea was morning sickness. Thankfully I am not pregnant. That would have been too much to bear right now.

My children now have no grandfather. It aches so much to write that. I had so many images in my head of all of things Grampy would teach my boys.

There are so many things I will miss about him: the stories he told over and over and over until I could say them word for word, the silly jokes, the words that Dad made up like wrastle instead of wrestle, the way he said P O P instead of pop, watching him play with my son (his little buddy), going for walks together down Green Bay road, trips to the beach, playing Euchre and 'going blind', the Kiss of Death Tour (long story) we took every summer, going to the store to get me a treat even though I am 35 years old, his laugh.

I worry about my mom so much and wish I could take some of her pain away. I know as awful as I am feeling right now, it is so much harder for her.

I wonder if I will ever be the same, if our family will ever be as happy as we were.

I just want to also say thank you to each of you that have reached out with your kind words and support. It really does help to know that others care.