A Letter to my Daddy

As the clock stuck twelve tonight and the date became the 4th of June, so came with it the one month mark since my father, my hero, my daddy, finished his battle with cancer and went to be with The Lord. I still, most of the time, cannot believe it's really true. Some days I feel like I'm really moving on, moving forward, healing somewhat. Other days I'm a wreck. Every last thing reminds me of him and I can hardly function because of how much I miss him. I'm so grateful for the undercurrent of peace that is constantly flowing in my life - the one that rushes in behind the waves of grief and helps to calm and soothe my aching heart. I know that God has a plan, and my faith in Him is unwavering, but I am still hurting, plain and simple. And so, one month later, I offer you a piece of my heart. I hope that soon, the ravings and musings you read on this blog will be filled with hilarity that I really do get to experience every day with my amazing family, but for now I must also be genuine, and right now I genuinely need to pour my heart out once more. 

Daddy,

I'm so ready for my heart to stop hurting this badly. Maybe then I can sleep soundly once more. I miss you Daddy, so much it's hard to breathe. I can't believe it's been a month since you looked me in the eye, and without words communicated everything and not enough all at once. I'm proud to be your daughter, to be raising your granddaughters, but it hurts that you're not here to see me do it, to have a hand in it, to have to have the conversations with them that I do about you, because you're the one I would usually get advice from on how to handle it. I've come to a place where I can have a 'conversation' with you in my head, Lord knows we've had enough of them over the years that I can usually guess what you'll say, or at least the easy way in which you would recommend assessing and processing the situation at hand. But what about those times when I don't know what you'd say? What then? What about those times when I just need to crawl into your lap and cry, like I have so many times, even as an adult? 

I'm trying so hard to keep my chin up, to walk through the grief but not drown in sorrow. I'm so SO thankful that you taught me to turn to the Word and worship during hard times, for they are my constant source of comfort, but even so, I wish you were here, to counsel without passing judgement, to love without strings attached, to remind me Who we lean on, because to be honest, at times it's hard to remember. I know you're healed, but I can't lie and say that I'm 100% comforted in the way which the healing came, because I'm not. But it's not my will, and it wasn't your will, but Gods will be done, and I meant it every step of the way, and still do now. 

Thank you for raising me in the house of God, so that I am constantly surrounded by a cloud of support and open arms, thank you for teaching me how to admit both to myself and to God when I feel like I'm failing, so that He can hold me up, and show me the things I need to do, reminding me that He never leaves me. Thank you for being such an amazing example of a father, teaching me wise and patient, loving and firm parenting. Because of you and mom I know that not only do I have the ability to help guide my daughters in the right directions, but also that I can be their parent first, and eventually their friend as well, because that's what you were (and mom is) to me. 

I could honestly ramble on forever, because that's how much I miss you, and that's how long you're gone for.  I just want to know when this raw pain ends. I will never forget you. When I'm working in the kitchen and my daughters are asking me when they get to help, I'll apply the same rules you did for me when I was the little underfoot wanting so badly to help cook with you. When I'm working on my next book I'll think of how hard you pushed me to finish my first book, and how amazing the feeling of accomplishment was, especially sharing it with you, because you had finished your first book too. It will hurt to not be able to show you everything else I'm going to write, but you better believe I'm determined to see it through because I promised you I would, and you promised you believed I could. Every time I get up to lead worship I will think of you and miss you, wishing you were there on bass, but I will be thankful you worked with me through so many things to get me to the point where that dream was realized - you knew it was my dream long before I did. 

What can I say? How can I encapsulate everything I'm feeling into a small letter? I can't. I'm sure of that. But this helps to ease the pain a little bit. 

I miss you so so so much Daddy, love, 

Your Boo Bear