Dear Dad,
It's only been a few weeks since you have died, and I am starting this blog so that I can write to you. I don't know where this is going to go or if it is going to help me, but I can't stand not talking to you.
The day that I heard you had a heart attack was the worst day of my life. I was driving to you when you died, and while I know there was no way I could have made it in time I still feel so guilty for not being able to say goodbye. I hope you know that I was racing to you as quickly as I could. I have never hated living so far away before.
The first Christmas without you was painful. I kept waiting for you to come down the stairs, or fall asleep on the couch while we watched movies, or stand in the kitchen doing dishes after every meal. When the house was quiet was when I waited for your footsteps. I knew you weren't there, but I kept hoping with every fiber of my being. But if wishes could come true then I wouldn't be writing this letter, would I?
I was doing laundry while Andrew was at work, and I was just struck with an overwhelming sadness. I miss you so much and I know I can't ever talk to you again and it kills me. These letters are going to be the closest I can get. They're all I'll have.
I have so much to say, but I have no other words than I miss you. I love you. I wish my heart wasn't breaking every time I realize you're gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment