Letter to Dad

It still seems so surreal. Like if I just wait a moment the phone will ring and you’ll be there wishing me a happy birthday. It’s not the first one without you, nor will it be the last. And yet…

I don’t actually recall the first one. There’s a lot about the first year without you that I can’t seem to recall. Like I blinked and time had passed, but the feeling remained the same. That empty, hollow, but somehow excruciating pain that wouldn’t go away. It’s almost funny that I could have joined you that first year, but I’m still just as stubborn as I’ve ever been and besides I couldn’t do that to Mom, and Sis. And I feel as if you would have been so upset to see me quite so soon.

My life has changed so much since you left; so many things I think would please you. Rick is here, I know you always liked him. He is helping me heal in many ways, and I hope I am healing him too. But that pain still lingers. The hollow feeling is always there, like a missing tooth that I can’t seem to keep from probing with my tongue (such a weak metaphor but there it is). And of course touching it sends the pain shooting through my very soul. I can’t help but think if it hurts me so much what is it doing to Mom? There are times I get a sense of it but it’s outside of what I can even begin to understand (I’m also hoping it remains that way for a long time).

So. Now what? I try you know. As it’s gotten closer to today I’ve gotten more irritable. My patience levels are particularly low this week, and I know that isn’t going to get any better before next weekend. I need to get passed your birthday too before I stop wanting to bite at everyone that annoys me. And nearly everyone is annoying me. It’s not their fault though; I can’t exactly go and hide for the next week. I just wish I could control my emotions a little better. I suppose I’m just going to have to do what I’ve been doing since you left; bear the anguish, smile through the pain, and pretend that life goes on.

Loving you, and missing you always,

Squeek