The day you went away..

I know, very well, that we are all just wasting time until we die, until we pass through the gates of heaven to reunit with our love ones. 

It was dads first birthday today, first birthday in heaven; first birthday in 10 years that his body wasn’t fighting against him. He would of been 55 today, not even old enough to retire, but instead he’s up in heaven. I can picture him healthy and well, I can feel him around me, I felt him all day to be honest, and I hope he knows that the day he went away the love we have for him didn’t. 

Yesterday mom, Jen and I all saw doves; it was a rare sighting that we all witnessed together. Ask any one of us how many we saw and the answer would probably be different. I only saw 2; dad and grandma. 

I know he’s surrounded by people we’ve loved and lost, celebrating his birthday in style. 
I miss you so much daddy. And it’s finally hit me that your really gone. Happy birthday, I love you so much ❤️

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I remember the first time I experienced death; I was 6 and my great grandma passed away a few months after I asked my mom what it felt like to die.

Since then I haven’t experienced a large number of people in my life dying; not that the ones I lost weren’t major. The first death I can remember after my great grandma was my grandpa, he was actually my great grandma’s partner but to me he was simply grandpa. I just remember being told he was gone, and I assumed it meant he moved away unaware of what “gone” really meant.

It was a quite a few years in between my grandpas and my grandmas passing however. I remember the last time I saw her like it was yesterday. It was Christmas Day, and yes I know I’m an awful granddaughter for not visiting her for three months, it’ll forever be burned into my brain that the last thing I remember is her crying; crying because her friend Wayne, who was an uncle of mine, passed away. It was the first and last time I saw my grandma cry.

She passed away on March 11th which was a Friday in 2005. It was 8:45 when the phone rang and I remember the pain I felt; the regret. Still to this day I wish I saw her one last time; that I had a chance to say goodbye and that I love her.

5 years later my uncle Doug died, all the pain I felt and all the regrets I had when my grandma passed returned. The same thing happened 3 years later when my Auntie Pat passed away.

The difference with my Dads passing is that I was able to do all the things I wish I had the opportunity to do with my grandma, my uncle Doug and my Auntie Pat; I was able to say goodbye, thank him for being who he is, tell him I loved him one last time while he was still here in person.

However

I still cannot come to terms with the fact that his physically life is over, why his life was cut short. The pain I felt with every other loss is replaced with extreme anger. Why him? Why wasn’t his life important enough to continue? Why do people that are addicted to drugs get to live and my dad died because of something out of his control. People keep telling me the good die young, that everyone has their “time” but his life wasn’t long enough


54
years isn’t enough time.

I’m a huge believer in spirits, in Angels, in something more then this life and I know he’s free now, I know he’s no longer in pain. He fought like hell, exceeded all the nurses and doctors expectations and got to meet two of his grandkids (cause you know there’s gonna be more daddio). His love, his strength and his courage will live forever in mine, my mom and my sisters hearts.

However my anger is making me be selfish; he should be here. A sick dad is better the no dad; a sick grandpa is better then one that’s gone. 54 years old with 27 & 24 year old daughters who still have so many milestones to go through.

Instead of my dad walking either of us down the aisle his picture will be on a memorial table. My future kids won’t grow up with a grandpa just Like I did.
His life shouldn’t of been cut short, but I know he was tired of fighting.

His passing hit me differently then the others not because I loved him less but because I loved him more; he brought me into this world, well — you know what I mean. Without him I wouldn’t be here.

I understand that he was suffering and that he’s free now which eases my soul — sorta. I’m still angry, but who says there’s a “right” way of dealing with someone passing away 

 

Love

Nothing is more frustrating then loosing something you spent time writing.

The day my dad passed away I wrote a blog post on Blogger titled love.

I’m going to try to remember exactly what I wrote, but it won’t be the same.

I’m constantly torn between what I should, and shouldn’t share. How am I suppose to help myself when I pride myself on helping others. How is my pain more then someone else’s? How is my loss more then my moms?
Yet when I try to express that to other people it seems like what I feel is wrong. That loosing a father is worse then loosing a husband.

I will never see it that way.
People say that blood is thicker then “water” but is it? I think “water” is a deeper connection then blood, it’s a choice. We did not fall in love with him, or promise our lives to him. He wasn’t our bestfriend, our partner in crime — I mean life. His loyalty and his choice to stick around weren’t mandatory, his choice to love my mom through the fights and through the changes wasn’t an obligation. He grew old with my mom, they saw each other everyday, that’s more then his siblings or mother or even my sister and I can say.
He is an awesome father, but he prides himself on being a loving husband. His love is what kept him alive. He did not fight to stay alive for his siblings and egg donor, I hate them, or my sister or nephews or I. He did not fight for any other reason then to have more time with his wife, he lived his life for my mom. He is the only man Ive ever met that could tell you his wedding anniversary, the song play during their first dance, and his wife’s birthday without a second thought.
This part was never added at the time because he was still alive.
If I only remember one thing about him it’d be the way he loved my mom. If I’m ever lucky enough to meet a man that loves me as much as my dad loves my mom I’d be beyond blessed.

I got to thank him for that, through tear soaked eyes, and I’m so grateful I had him as a dad. He was more then we deserved and I wish I realized that while he was still here; because even through all the mean things he said and the terrible things he did, all the fights and tears it all just disappears when I think of his love. Rest in sweet peace daddy. Your free of pain and suffering now.  
    
 

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭46:1-2‬ ‭KJV