Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

It's hard to believe that this was us just a year ago: trying to have a good time in Roatan despite the terrible diagnosis...but still together.

It's harder to believe that this is my life now - with no you. I hate to whine about it...but it seems so unfair to me that our historian, our photographer, my father, is gone. I don't see my children smile as widely anymore as I saw them smile in pictures you took...and I know that I feel different, ungrounded. I'm having a really hard time taking things seriously, with this feeling that life is so fleeting.

I'm never far from the memories or the pain.  December: "A year ago was my last Christmas being someone's child." January: "A year ago, Dad was diagnosed." February: "A year ago we were with Dad in Bayfield." March: "A year ago we were on our last trip together." I'm getting farther and farther from those though.

And even the good stuff causes me twinges because you won't see them - Noah's first haircut, Natalie looking so big and happy in her new backyard, Matthew's 2nd birthday party, Katie will be making her first communion this year. We're doing it all without our photographer, and without our biggest smiles.

But I know that life isn't fair, I know that I was gifted with a pretty good life, and I know that I am tough enough to handle this loss - MOST days.

So anyway, my progress report: I am not the all-A student you raised when it comes to grief management, but I am at least passing this class. I started running again (and I would guess you can run again, too, now that your legs are not all ruined). I'm starting a Brownie troop for Katie tomorrow. I'm hoping for a whole new wholesome adventure and more special time my precious middle child. I'm trying to make my life to go on. I'm trying pretty hard to engage, even though sometimes I wonder if any of it is worth it. Losing you still hurts an awful lot...so much that my other roles aren't quite filling up that spot. Maybe these new adventures will help me pass the time and one day I will look up and not feel that hurt quite so much.

Anyway, Dad, I'm sorry for the times that I didn't appreciate you as I probably should have. I should have probably worked less hard on my mother role over the past 10 years and worked harder on the daughter role - because it seems I wasn't ready to be done with that role yet! (And everyone knows, you can always mother harder...it is a neverending spectrum, motherhood.) Hopefully you know my intentions though, and know how much I loved you, even when we didn't always understand each other.

With love,

your daughter,

Pam