Mad

I'm not really sure I should be posting this, but it's how I feel today, and I feel like this is the only way I know how to deal with all the thoughts in my head.

I'm mad.

I'm mad today. I'm frustrated and mad.

I'm mad that I'm bringing my family home to see my mom and not my dad. I'm mad and angry that he's not there. This isn't how it's supposed to be. This isn't how I thought it would be in my head before I got married. I imagined my little family coming over to my parent's home and enjoying this wonderful time of year. I imagined him taking them out in their first snow. I imagined my dad in that red and white suit talking to my kids, listening to their innocent voices. I imagined them knowing the "real" Santa like I did my whole life. I imagined the wonderment on their faces as they looked up in his bright, loving, blue eyes. I imagined the mystery and excitement, and one day the look on their faces as they looked at those big, safe hands and say, "that's Pop"! I imagined him telling them the same story he told me about how he was Santa's special helper, and had been asked specifically by Santa to help him visit little girls and boys. And that it was a secret and they couldn't tell anyone. And they wouldn't. And secretly they would be so proud that "their" Pop was chosen, like I always was.

Today I feel robbed. I feel robbed of those experiences and hundreds of others. that my children would have had with him.

They don't get to know him. They don't get to know of his goodness.

I'm listening to Christmas music, and today it doesn't feel like the most wonderful time of the year. All the words seem fake.

I'm sure things will be better tomorrow, and I will once again understand that things are how they should be. But today, right now, Christmas doesn't seem right without my dad.

Happy Father's Day

I understand I am a day late for this, but I was really struggling with what to say. I talked about my dad a few weeks ago and everyone knows how I feel about him, so I didn't know what else to say. My friend Celia, (who is a fantastic blogger) wrote "10 Things Her Father Taught Her" in her blog. I thought it was great, so sorry babe, I'm copying you!


This picture was taken 3 years ago on Valentine's Day. My dad had made our favorite cake for my mom and me. We loved how it said "Yous". He was a classic!

Ten Things My Dad Taught Me
1. NEVER run out of gas.

2. "It's just as easy to fall in love with a rich guy as it is a poor guy, so do the right thing, Daddy needs a corvette!" (Sorry Dad,)

3. If you get in an accident, ALWAYS call the police.

4. Unless you are confined to a hospital bed, GO TO WORK!

5. Forgive people.

6. There's always room for ice cream.

7. Do what you say you'll do.

8. You can never have too many ice chests.

9. Good things can sometimes be found in dumpsters!

10. You get what you pay for.

The Home of the Brave

Memorial Day. A day to remember all those who have gone before us, especially those who have died in the service of our country. I am so greatful for those men and women who risk their lives daily for us.

My father served in the Vietnam war. He experienced things with his fellow soldiers that men are not supposed to. The human body is not designed to go through such tragic, and gruesome things. Your mind changes, it has to, to survive. Some souls don't come back from it. The lucky ones do. My dad, like countless others, watched his friends get shot and sometimes killed. He was shot in the leg, and got Maleria while in Vietnam. He received the Purple Heart. He never talked about the war. The few things I do know about it, I asked him specifically. I was always so proud that he was in the war. Any time the subject came up I always told people what he did, with great pride. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if he knew that.

If you've experienced the loss of someone in your life, you know that you don't need a specific day to remember them though. We think about them always. Sometimes you wish you could just forget for a little while, to make it easier.

My dad didn't die in a war, but he died just the same. He died fighting a losing battle with his body. During his sickness he overcame things he shouldn't have, just like in the war, and kept going. I've never witnessed such fighting for life.

I look at life different now. I hold onto it tighter. I cry more, whether because I'm happy or sad. I try to tell people how I feel about them. I say thank you more. I try to be better.

There is a song on my blog called "Let go now Daddy". Oddly enough, this describes my life with my father almost exactly. The only difference is I was on the phone in California, not in his hospital bed telling him to let go. It is a beautiful, touching song, that makes me cry. I miss him so much.