Thursday, April 01, 2010

Dear Dad,

Three years ago... All of this was really starting. The start of the end. All of the fear and pain was really taking hold of our lives. And my worst nightmare was that we only had you for a few more years. And that's all we had.

And all I can think about lately is what we were doing last year at this time. I think about all the hope. I think about Hannah still waiting to be born, and you with treatments ahead of you, scary, but hopeful.
I constantly think about you putting Ben's bike together and walking beside him while he rode it for the first time. Every time I look out my front windows I think about that, I can almost see you out there, especially now that the snow is gone. And when I sit on my couch I think about you sitting in the empty spot beside me... Sometimes I think of you sitting here with Hannah asleep on your chest while you hum to her, and sometimes I think of the very last time you sat here... Eating popsicles with Sammy. All of us laughing and so happy. I think about watching you drive away from my house that day. I think about watching your car turn the corner and wondering when the next time would be that you would come, and then telling myself not to be so morbid. You'd be back. You'd be back here for sure.

And then I try really hard not to think of the last day I saw you in Martensville, because I know if I do I will end up thinking about Seattle.

So I end up thinking about what you had planned for this year. What all of us had planned...
I think about you starting to feel better this spring. I think about booking a campsite for us to camp in this summer, and I think about you taking the boys fishing. When I feel sad about that I am so glad for that day at the Forrestry Farm, for that one fish you caught, and for all the "crabs" the boys caught. I think about the Thresherman's show here in Yorkton. I think about that a lot actually. I wonder if I will be able to go there again now that I can't go with you. I think about getting you to take me to where grampa grew up. I wanted to do that this summer with you and now I can't, I lost my chance to go with grampa and now I lost my chance to go with you. I think about you planting your cucumbers on May long weekend. I think about going to garage sales with you and Ben. I think about seeing you this Easter. I think about you taking Hannah's tiny little hands in yours, and putting her tiny little feet on yours, and watching you dance with her and sing "Did You Ever See a Lassie."

I try not to Dad. I do. But every time I stop. Every time. Every time I stop, I start.

I heard a song I used to love today, it used to make me feel so happy. Like everything was right with my world. Like I was surrounded by God's love, and safe, and happy. And today that song made me so sad. Because I can't get there anymore. No matter how hard I try, I can't feel completely happy. Because there is a huge gaping hole where you should be and I don't feel completely anything anymore.

And our family feels so wrong without you. It does.

Last night I dreamed that they found a cure for your cancer. I dreamed they were managed to resuscitate you, and that you were having new treatments that we were hoping would work. I dreamed that I was so happy, because there was still a chance for a miracle. And for the first time in forever I woke up with that hope still lingering. Usually, there's no reason for me to remind myself that you're gone. It's always there. Awake. Asleep. I know. I can't forget, even for a second. But this morning I woke up confused by how real my dream felt, and I had to remind myself. I had to explain everything to myself, about how you got sick, and then sicker, and how you died, and how we had your funeral and buried you, and how it's too late now, no matter what, and oh, it hurt to tell myself those things Dad.

So I've rushed around and stayed busy so I don't stop and then start. But now I have, and I can't seem to stop again.

Stop wishing. Stop replaying. Stop this aching.

Really, I suppose I don't need to say all this, because it all just really means one thing: I miss you so much.