Today marks the 6th anniversary since my father's death. I have been looking through old pictures tonight, just to feel closer to him and relive some memories. I found the following passage that I wrote the year he died. I never published it, or shared it with anyone before now. It's a painful reminder of just how hard those days were, but I'm glad that I wrote it down. It reminds me that good things happened that year too!
The day that I have been dreading for weeks is finally
here. This is the first Father’s Day
since Pop passed away. I’ve tried to focus on my husband, making this day as
special as I can for him, but it’s been hard not to let my mind wonder. It’s Father’s Day and I don’t have a father
to visit, call, or send a card to. I’m
only 29 years old, and already I’ve been denied that opportunity. It just
doesn’t seem fair.
Yesterday was Logan ’s
last T-ball game of the season and the coach gave Aidan a jersey and let him
take the last at bat. The look on his face was priceless, and all I could think
was that my dad would have been so proud of him. He hit the ball on the first
swing and they let him run all of the bases. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen
him smile so big. I wish my dad could have seen him. I wish he could have seen Logan play pitcher and
hit the ball into the outfield. I wish that he could teach my boys all that he
taught me about baseball when I was young.
There are so many things that I wish for, but more than
anything I just wish that I had one more day with him. I would tell him how
much his unconditional love and support has meant to me over the years. I would
tell him that no matter what, he will always be my hero, and I hope that I made
him proud. I would reminisce about the old days with all of the hockey games,
the trips to New Hampshire ,
the pool parties and the boyfriends that were never good enough for me in his
eyes. I would sit with him and look at pictures of Christmas with Naoelle, and
all of the vacations that we took to Mexico together. I would even watch
the old M.A.S.H. reruns that I so frequently protested about when I was at his
house. I would do anything that made him happy, if only I could have the
chance.
I guess that I am luckier than some. When Pop died I didn’t
have any regrets. I always told him that I loved him when I spoke to him on the
phone. We spoke frequently and for long periods of time. He was a great
listener. I had also just spent
Christmas with him and the rest of my family. I was scheduled to work that Christmas
Eve, and when I didn’t go into work that day, I lost my job. My boss asked me,
“What’s four hours away from your family, in the grand scheme of things?” Little did we all know that that would be my last
Christmas Eve with my Father. Spending that time with him and my family was
well worth losing that job. Those were
four hours that I would never be able to get back, and I would have regretted
it for the rest of my life. So I have no
regrets about the time that I spent with him, or the things that I said or
didn’t say. I loved him everyday of my life, and he loved me with all of his
heart. That is what I hang onto now that
he’s gone; that and all of our memories.
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| My Dad and I on my wedding day |
