// Happy birthday, Dad! //

Heya Dad,

It’s hard to believe that you would be 62 years old! You would have loved the weather yesterday - thank you for making it a perfect day. I could feel your warmth in the air.

It was tough not celebrating with you for your birthday yesterday. It was another reminder that there will be no celebrations together. Ever. Again. I’m still trying to learn how to deal with it - on a day-to-day basis and - on holidays, celebrations, life moments. I know that you will never be by my side for some of the biggest moments in my life: to walk me down the aisle, to meet my first born, or simply sit down and eat dinner together and impart your never ending wisdom on life.

Although you aren’t physically with me, there is a part of you that I take with me in every breath I take. There is comfort in knowing that you’ll always be with me.

Love you to the moon and back!

xo

// Day 45//

Hi Dad,

It’s hard to believe that it has now been more than six weeks since I last spoke with you. I’ve been told that “denial” is one of the stages of grief. Maybe I’m still in that stage.  Every day I wake up and it’s still near impossible to grasp the fact that I will never again see your face, get a warm hug from you or simply call you up about the Celtics game.  Will it always be like this?

Part of me wonders if I should let go of some of the incessant thoughts I have floating in my head to make room for new, positive, opening and loving thoughts and emotions.

I am open and receptive to all the love and abundance of the universe.

Love. Love. Love.

// Day 44 //

I am going to take control of my life. If I want something, I will go for it. Or I will try to. Because I can’t be a backseat driver in the story of my life any longer.

It’s a new year and I am dedicating 2012 to none other than yours truly. Without you, Dad, I realize now how dependent I was on your advice and direction for me. I cannot change my circumstances. How I react and what happens next is in my control.

I keep trying (obsessively) to find the lesson within all of this. Rather than constantly looking for what I should be learning or gaining from this, I am accepting the truth and peace that when the time is right, I will come out a better, stronger me.

// Day 42 //

Hi Dad,

There was a glimpse of normalcy yesterday. For an instant I felt like myself once again. I was me. I was another busy bee at work, and for a moment I wasn’t consumed with sadness or loneliness. It struck me as quite amazing. Yet, then immediately after I felt a surge of guilt. I know you’d want me to be happy and I want to be happy. So why is there a part of me that feels bad about being happy? If I had my choice you would still be here with me.

// Day 28. One month without you, Dad. //

I called you today. Again. It’s been a full month today. I desperately am trying to hold onto every memory and thought I have of you. I curse myself for ever having deleting every voicemail from you.

I feel like I’m a broken record. Playing the same tune, Dad. But what can I say that hasn’t been said before? I miss you. I want one more chance to talk, see, hug you. I regret not calling you the day you passed away. I regret never forcing you to come home. I regret ever letting you go to California.

The reality is that  you are physically gone now. I feel you here, around me. Now, I just have to learn to live with this shift in reality.