A Year Without You.

Dear Dad,

Today, marks a year since you died. It’s Unbelievable, Inconceivable, Impossible. Until last April 22nd, there had not been a moment of my life without you in it; caring for me, supporting me, loving me. Being my dad. I’ve learned that the world is a different place when your dad isn’t in it.

Last April, 22nd, I had the privilege to be with you as you left this world; as you took your last breath and said goodbye to mom with such intensity in your eyes. That moment was everything to me; one I’ll never forget it. Not a second of it. It was so unbelievably sad, so unfair, too soon, and, yet perfect, peaceful, and full of grace and dignity. I remember how still and quiet it was, how I noted the time, and looked at your face, finally released of tension, pain and fear. I was incredibly proud of Mom; she was so strong, and in that moment, so accepting. You truly connected with her in your final moments and she knew it. You left her with everything you had left to give. You were my hero.

Every day since, I look for you and I find you. Sometimes you’re there in a gorgeous sunset, or as I watch the deer leap my fence. You’re in every fly fishermen I see in the river, you’re in my kids’ and grandkids’ faces and mannerisms, and in mine. I smile so much when I catch myself saying or doing something that is so you. Your legacy is everywhere.

In this year, I’ve thought about my own time on this earth, my own mortality, my own legacy. I wonder how the people I love will remember me. I’ve witnessed Mom carry on with such strength, such courage, without you; something that seemed impossible to me. She was devastated by your loss, and I know leaving her broke your heart. But, I’ve learned so much about her and from her this year; she’s been incredible and you would be so proud. Your love for her has gotten her through this year.

We’ve gone through all the holidays, the anniversaries and birthdays, we’ve welcomed your third great granddaughter, Addison, named for you. Every time I say her name, there you are. You would have loved her. She’s got to be the happiest baby I’ve every known and she’s got your cheeks! The little ones bring mom lots of joy; but also a bit of sadness wishing you were here to see them grow, laugh and challenge their parents. But then I remind myself that you are here, watching. You’re part of all of it.

I spent today playing tennis with friends, reading my book in the sun, doing some laundry and planning a vacation. I shed a few tears, looked at some old pictures, and carried on. It’s what you would’ve wanted. Life is for the living, and as you taught me, “worrying about something I can not change is a waste of time.” “It is what it is, Yeddie,” you would have said, and you would be right.

Tomorrow will come, and if I’m lucky, I’ll awaken to greet it. I’ll look for you and find you, I’ll carry on. It’s who I am and that’s thanks to you.

Miss ya, Dad.

Love,

Yeddie