Still Grieving After All These Years

Dad passed away on August 25, 2012 – exactly two years ago, yet in some ways, it seems like just yesterday.

In the days and weeks following my Dad’s death, so many people told me “it will get easier.” Now, two years later, I can say that yes, in some small ways it has – but for the most part, my life will never be the same, so in that vein, it has not gotten easier.

Losing him tore my heart out. And I knew I would never, ever be the same. I am able to put one foot in front of the other most of the time. My life has not stopped, but it will also never be the same again. When he died, a very large piece of my heart died too.

If you have lost a parent, one that was to you as mine was to me, then you understand exactly how  I am feeling. There are no words to describe the emptiness that comes from losing one of the people who shaped you into who you are as a human being on every level and  who is no longer there. No longer there…to talk to, to lean on, to love you unconditionally, to confide in, to teach you what it means to be a good person, to give you that advice you don’t want to hear, to roll their eyes when you do something stupid, to make you laugh, to make you cry, to be your hero, to hold your hand.

There is no time limit on grief. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard people say, “It’s been long enough” or “It’s time to move on”, or “Your dad wouldn’t want you to still be grieving”.

When one loses a HUGE piece of their heart, that piece can never be repaired or replaced, that grieving never stops.

I lucked out in the daddy department and yes, I am so very fortunate to have had him in my life for 51 years, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have wanted another 51 years.

I know how lucky I am, because not everyone is as fortunate as I was to have had the kind of bond with their father. And I fully believe it gives me license to miss him forever and I know I will. Many don’t understand the tears that still come tumbling down when I miss my dad. That’s OK with me because I understand and know that he would too.

Dad had a wacky sense of humor and at times had no filter. I have been told by my children that I often have no filter either. Guess I got that from dad and I like that.

Laughter is not only the world’s best medicine but has healing powers as well. It is for this reason, that I put dad’s stories together into a book by him posthumously. His stories brought laughter to so many during his lifetime and after from those who read his book.

Only dad could joke at my sister’s wedding – during his speech – about realizing he wouldn’t have grandchildren who would be basketball players- and get away with it. She married into a very loving, but also very short family, she herself barely being 5 feet tall. He had a knack for saying outrageous things at very unusual times. Oftentimes I would find myself saying: “You didn’t really just say that, did you”?

Compiling his stories was both joyful and painful. He used his creative license to add hyperbole to factual-based content. Although I read and enjoyed his stories while he was alive, I didn’t remember exactly what was fact and what was fiction and wanted so badly to be able to call him and ask him, but of course – that was impossible.

From Self-Proclaimed Nerd, to…Accomplished Executive, to Befuddled Snowbird

Life’s Journey Through The Absurd Told with Sophistication and Wise-Ass Humor

Daddy, this one’s for you!

Thank you for leaving behind your legacy in the memories of those of us who loved you with all our hearts.

And thank you for sharing your wit with the world in the form of your stories.

Although my life has been changed forever, and that huge hole in my heart will never be repaired, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world to have been lucky enough to have you for my father!




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