It's been a while since I have written something that wasn't on the 200 list. But it will probably be happening a lot more.
My dad and I.
April 24th marked the year since my dad passed away. There hasn't been a day that I don't think about him and want him here with me. I would give anything to have him here. But then I have to remind myself of something... the bigger picture. While I would love to have him here with me, he is in heaven. Pain free for the first time in years. And I keep him with me. It's not the same, I know. Trust me, I know. I would love to have him hold me in his arms and tell me everything is going to be okay. But I don't have that. I have the memories and his voice inside my head telling me he loves me.
In December 2013, four months before he passed away, my dad sent me a text that simply said "Praying for you Angie. And I love you very much. This year has been a hard year fro me. hope next year brings better things for the both of us....." As I read that now, I can't help but know that it came true. Its just not what either of us had in mind. We had planned to get together and start building a relationship again. But he is gone. He is pain free and cancer free now. And his death catapulted me into a year of transformation. It was a great but no great for me. It brought strength but it also brought suffering.
On the year mark, John and I drove to Joplin. I had this 'big day' planned to honor my dad. I didn't know it would be as hard as it was. I was good while we were driving but the minute we turned on to Range Line, I just felt grief. I missed him so much. Driving to lunch, we passed places I went to growing up and all the memories, both good and bad, came rushing back. But I held myself together. Mainly because I didn't want to break down before going to eat. I'm a gross crier. We ate lunch at the restaurant that my dad and I went to a couple of times. It's the same one my friends and I went to after the funeral. It was good, but I just wasn't hungry. Half way through John asked me how I was doing. He knows me well enough to know I wasn't doing well. It was hard to be there. It felt more real a year later.
As we paid and started walking to the car, John gave me a hug and I lost it. Even writing this now, I am tearing up. I miss my dad. I feel like this past year has been grieving his loss. But now, its more grieving the future and things he won't be around for. To walk me down the aisle. Father-daughter dance. Meet my future husband. Be there as I cross the finish line of my first half marathon. To go to Cardinals game with. Or take my kids to games and teach them about baseball or how to play the guitar. There are days now, that I see something that reminds me of him and I just want to text him. I forget that he isn't here. And that breaks my heart.
I still find myself breaking down and I have to be easy on myself. I tend to think that I should be "over it" or at least more over it than I am at this point. I feel like I've made so much progress in dealing with things that I should be able to move on. But do you ever move on from loosing a parent? I don't think you can. I think it is something that is with you every day. I think its how you react to the grief that helps you. I am realizing, with the help of great friends, that it's okay to not be okay sometimes. But I can't stay in that mind frame all the time.
After I pulled myself together, John and I drove the half marathon course. I grew up in Neosho and we drove to Joplin almost every weekend to go to dinner, the mall, or grocery shopping. And my dad lived in Joplin for close to 15 years before he died. So I'm pretty familiar with Joplin. When I looked at the course on my phone, it couldn't really tell where we would be running, so I wanted to drive it. There are reminders of my dad all through the track... a Steve's Auto Body (his name was Steve), the funeral home, his home, places that he and I would go to, etc. It was bitter sweet. I want my dad there when I cross the finish line. But he will be with me along the course. Little reminders that he is with me in my memories. I can't help but think he would be proud of me.
