It feels like there is a hole inside my heart. A hole that can never be patched. My dad took part of my heart when he passed away.
It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that he is not here. One day he was here, and the next he was gone. It happened so quickly. Life will never be the same. There was no final goodbye. That’s what I struggle with. I always thought my family and I would surround my dad when he was about to take his last breath. I thought that we would be able to say how much we loved him and cared for him. I didn’t get that. I didn’t get to tell him that I loved him so much. I loved our talks about his time in the Vietnam War. His time with his family when he was younger. Sometimes I would call him asking about how to fix something when I already knew the answer. I just wanted to talk to him. There’s many times that I am about to call him to tell him about a movie I saw that he would have liked to see. About history and genealogy info that I’ve come across.
I am so grateful that my dad taught me compassion. He surely was grumpy at times but he had so much love for everyone. He would freely give away money to people that he thought needed it. He would do anything to help his friends and family. He was so generous, almost too generous at times. I am grateful that I can help others. There’s so many people that need love and comfort in this world. Why would I not want to try and help?
Remembering my wedding day, my dad was so very nervous. More nervous than my husband and I! He couldn’t even get his suit on. A family friend had to give him something to calm his nerves. When my dad and I were in the hallway, waiting to walk down the isle, his nerves couldn’t handle it. So I told him, ‘Dad, it’s ok. We can do this. There’s nothing to be nervous about. (When it was our time to start walking I said) Come on, let’s go!’
On his last days, I wish he could have known that everything was going to be ok. That we were going to get through this. It makes me so sad that he lost hope, and the will to live. It hurts that he struggled with his mental health mostly alone. I wish I could give him a big, long hug, to try and fill the emptiness in his heart.
I will no longer get the birthday phone call from my dad, wishing me a happy birthday. I can’t call him to tell him about things we are doing to the house. I can’t call him to see what he did today. And all those things break my heart. I wish so badly that I could see him and tell him how much he meant to me.