Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

It was seven years ago today that you went to heaven. Sometimes it seems like forever ago, and sometimes it seems like yesterday. I will never forget that Thanksgiving day when Amy called me and said I needed to come to the hospital because we had to meet with hospice. Everyone knows what the word means. I couldn’t believe it was really happening, and part of me still can’t believe it seven years later. Thanksgiving is always a little tough because you aren’t here.

I wish you could’ve been here this year. There’s so much you would’ve loved to see. The Texas Rangers won the World Series. Seriously. I wish I could’ve watched it with you. I can’t count the number of games you took me to at the old Arlington Stadium. We watched a lot of bad baseball together, but the quality of baseball never mattered to me. I know it never mattered to you, either. But still, it would’ve been nice to watch this quality of baseball together at least once.

I still have a hard time accepting the fact that you never met my girls, and it’s even harder because I know how proud you would be of them. Ella started kindergarten this year, and she absolutely loves it. While we all know that she didn’t get her love of school from you, she did get your social skills. On her first day riding the bus, Ella didn’t choose one of the dozen empty rows to sit in. Instead, she chose an empty seat right next to a girl on the second row, sat down, introduced herself, and asked what grade the girl was in. There is only one person in our family who would strike up a conversation with a complete stranger. Thank you for giving her that gift.

And what can I say about Audrey? I know you would’ve bonded with her because you were both dealt a bad hand in life. Nobody deserves to lose their dad when they are two years old like you did, and nobody deserves the disabilities that Audrey was given. But both of you fought through it like warriors. And just like you, she does most of her fighting with laughter and giggles.

The list of Audrey’s accomplishments is so lengthy it would blow your mind. She took her first full lap around the mall without using her walker. An entire lap. Almost half a mile. I know that you would’ve wanted to be there to cheer her on when she came around the corner to complete that lap.

As hard as it was to experience all those things without you, those weren’t the worst days. The worst days were the ones that I forgot to think about you. I know I’m supposed to say “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you” but it’s not true. Some days go by and I don’t think about you. It’s not because I’m avoiding the memories because they are too painful. The pain just reminds me how great I had it when you were here. If things hadn’t been that great, the memories wouldn’t be painful at all. And that would hurt so much more.

The truth is that sometimes I get so busy and preoccupied that I look up and realize that I didn’t think about you all the previous day. It’s not your fault. You did more than enough to make me remember you. It’s my fault. I get so caught up in things that don’t really matter, that I lose focus of the things that really do matter.

I never wait until New Year’s Day to begin a new resolution, so starting today I’m going to take some time each day and think about you. You deserve at least that much. And it really isn’t hard. All I have to do is look at my girls because there is so much of you in them.