It's Been 6 Years

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. 

My Dad and I on my wedding day

Getting Through the Holidays

Our last Vermont Thanksgiving

For me, the holidays have always been a joyful time of year. Time to be with family, be grateful for what we have, make some good memories. This year is the first year that we are celebrating without either of my parents, and it is hard. Really hard.

Growing up, we spent Thanksgiving with my mother’s side of the family. Everyone would get together at my grandparents’ house and we would share in all of the responsibilities that go along with feeding and entertaining 20-30 children and adults.  It was the day that Christmas card photos were taken and memories were made. We sang, we played games, we ate and we laughed. I have so many memories of that time spent with my family, and I am so grateful for each and every one of them. I want that for my kids. I hope that they will one day cherish their memories of the holidays as I do mine.

I managed to get through Thanksgiving pretty well, mostly because I was busy spending time with my husband’s family, and trying to make the holiday special for the kids. Now it’s December, and all eyes are on Christmas, but I’m having a hard time feeling the joy of Christmas that is usually radiating from me this time of year.

                                         

It’s December, the “Season of Giving,” and I have only bought a few small things at Five Below. I’ve only made half a batch of cookies, and my wish list is only 2 items long. I just can’t seem to get into it this year. Of course, because I have kids, I am faking it the best way I know how - by sticking with tradition.  I made shortbread cookies and we all decorated the tree together while listening to Christmas music. I hung our stockings and put up the rest of the decorations. The hard part came when the boys went to bed, and it was just my husband and I in the living room, looking at the tree and listening to the music. Sitting there in the dim light from the Christmas tree, all I could think about was what I was missing: my Mom and her exuberant laugh, and my Dad with his warm smile and generous spirit. Looking at their stockings hung above the fireplace made me realize that for the first time, neither of them would be filled Christmas morning. There would be no extra presents under the tree. I haven’t sat in the living room since.

My father died two weeks after Christmas, almost 5 years ago, and the pain has lessened, but it’s not gone. My mother died almost 4 months ago, and the pain from her passing has only been pushed aside by sheer willpower on my part to keep it out. My resolve is crumbling though, and it’s getting harder every day to keep my feelings at bay. I want to feel the spirit of Christmas. I want to sing Christmas songs with my kids, and get excited with them for Christmas morning. Instead I am dreading the whole thing. I wish I could put my head under my pillow until it all blows over…but I’m not going to do that. I’m going to find a way to make this holiday just as special as those in the past, for me and my family!  I may shed a few tears along the way, but I guess that is to be expected. I still have 3 beautiful, healthy children and a husband who adores me. I have a sister in France, and a brother in California who will be here to share the holidays with us, and we will make plenty of new memories together. I owe it to my kids. I owe it to my parents.

ETA: This post was written a few weeks ago and was scheduled to post, but didn't. Last week I made 4 batches of cookies and today I finally went Christmas shopping. I've also spent some time alone in the living room, and it's not as haunting as it was at first. I'm getting there! :)

It Is Better To Have Loved and Lost, Than Never to Have Loved At All

Is it really? When you lose someone you care deeply for, the hurt is so strong that it is almost unbearable. You would do almost anything to make that pain go away…but would you wish that that love never existed, so the loss wouldn’t be so monumental? For me, the answer is an emphatic NO WAY!

I had a wonderful relationship with my father for most of my life. He wasn’t perfect, and we definitely had our differences, especially when I was a snotty, know-it-all teenager, but we always managed to work things out. By the time I was an adult, he had become my rock- even more so than my husband. He was always there to talk to, comfort and counsel me, and tell me how much he loved me. He was a good father-in-law to my husband, with whom he could always sit down and enjoy a beer. He was a wonderful and generous grandfather to my children and a great friend to anyone in need. He would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, and would never expect anything in return. I believe it is his love, and the example that he set in his life that has helped make me who I am today.

I lost my father when he was 54 years old, which was way too early in my book! I know that there are things that I could have still learned from him. When I get to thinking about all of the things that he won’t be here for, I have to remind myself that not everyone is as lucky as I am. I had his love and wisdom for 29 years and I have to remember all of the things that he was there for, and how many memories we made while he was alive. He taught me how to ride a bike, helped me learn to play softball, and was always available to proofread my school papers. He watched me graduate from high school and college, he walked me down the aisle and danced with me at my wedding, and he was able to meet and build a relationship with my boys. I will be forever grateful for our time together, and even though it still hurts like hell, I know that I am a better person for loving him. It really is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.