Most of you know the story well by now. Four years ago tonight, my parents, along with my brother and his family, boarded a flight to France. But, instead, the flight landed in Shannon, Ireland, because my Dad died of a massive heart attack in flight. It was in the wee hours of August 3, 2013. I will probably always struggle to sleep on this night of the year.
It seems at once unfathomable and yet completely reasonable that that was four years ago. A moment and a lifetime, simultaneously. The days without him sometimes seem to drag on endlessly, yet the years he's been gone have passed in a flash. That's how it goes with life, right?
It's been four years since the night my kids and I told my parents we loved them and to have a good flight. Four years since I've been known as "Dasnay." Four years since I've heard my Dad's hearty guffaws at my brothers' antics, since he referred to my sister and I as "my girls."
Soon after he passed away, I started work. I had a coworker turned friend who had lost her Dad four years previously at the time, and I remember thinking how four years seemed like such a long time, compared to my mere weeks at the time. But here I am, four years in, and it doesn't seem distant. Not at all.
I miss a million little things. I miss the way my Dad got me. I miss his faith in me. I miss the way he could bring smiles to people's faces with ease, and could offer the most spot on advice imaginable, even just minutes after meeting them.
I ache with missing you, Dad. And I'll ache until we meet again.
Love forever,
Dasnay xoxo
