Sunday, August 2, 2015

2

Once again this year, I struggled with what to write, when to post...the usual stuff. Here's where I landed. I decided to post today, rather than tomorrow, because August 2nd was the last time I spoke to my Dad. The last time I told him I loved him, while he was in the physical realm (I still tell him daily at minimum, but it's different now). So, I decided that, rather than posting tomorrow about how much I miss him, which I do, painfully, still and always, I would post today and focus on all the things that make me feel grateful, as related to him.

First, to that phone call. I think about it often. A million different things could've prevented us from reaching my parents on their way to the airport that day. We could've been running late. They could've been in a dead spot. One of the kids could've thrown a fit. A million things. But none of those things happened. We did get through. And we finished the conversation by saying, "I love you." And I will never, ever stop being grateful for that. Ever.

I'm grateful that I had such an amazing father in the first place. Not everyone does. And I did. How lucky. He was awesome and funny and kind and loving and myriad other things. He offered guidance and support and was the best cheerleader any of his five kids could've asked for. He was literally Santa Claus. We were really lucky.

I'm grateful that he loved my Mom so much. I had models (in both him and my grandfather) from early in life of how I should expect to be loved by my husband. And that is to say, I learned that I should be adored and appreciated, always. I carried that with me, and it is precisely why I ended up with E.

I'm grateful that he couldn't resist babies. If he hadn't been so gaga for babies, maybe there wouldn't have been all five of us.  No matter what else is going on in our lives, we have four built-in best friends that our parents gave us.

I'm grateful that I will always remember how thoroughly he believed in me. If ever I doubt my competence, I have only to remember how absolutely sure of it he always was. It never faltered, even when it probably should have.

So, yea. In short, two years later, life still sucks more without him than it did with him. But I'm also just so damn grateful for the life I have at least in part because I had him for a father. And I'm grateful because I believe he's still watching over me. Thanks, Papa.