This is the place I'll come and share random thoughts, comments and some basic BS I feel is worth sharing. You, however, may not feel like it’s worth reading. I make no promises that any of it will make sense, or will even make you laugh… Although, I will certainly try.
I hope you enjoy my musings and my insanity!

P.S. Don’t forget… Tip your waitress on your way out the door!

Sunday, August 11, 2013

One Year... Dear Daddy.

Dear, Daddy

It’s been a year—one complete year, since I lost you. And there hasn’t been a moment since that horrible day that I’ve not thought of you.
I was with my two closest friends. You’ve heard me talk about them many times. You would’ve liked them had you ever met them. I was with them and it was a beautiful day. We were at the lake and I got the call from T that the police had come to the door and they needed to talk to me, but I wasn’t home. They wouldn’t tell him, it had to be me. He called me because he couldn’t fathom what on earth our local police department had to tell me that he wouldn’t be allowed to know.
I couldn’t either.
He hung up with me, saying he’d call me back as the officer came back to verify his identity so they could in fact give him the message.
While I waited one of my friends said, “Call your Father.”
I refused. There was no reason to call you. You lived in New York. I live in Arizona.
...there was no reason to call you because the message couldn’t possibly be about you.
You see, you were invincible, Daddy. I know you thought so, too. You survived years of self-inflicted abuse to your body and so much more, and my mind refused to even consider for one second that it could be about you.
But when T called me back, he could barely get the words out. In fact, I started to lose patience with him as my own panic rose because he was stumbling over his words and I finally blurted, “Just tell me!”
Then he said it.
He said the words I never considered I’d ever hear. He said the thing that my mind refused to consider.
He said you were dead.
And then I couldn’t breathe.
How? How could this be happening? How could you be gone? You weren’t supposed to die before Mommy. She’s the sick one, not you. You were supposed to retire and get out of that damn truck then move to Arizona and play with your grandchildren, watch them grow up. You were supposed to be here so I could take care of you.
How? How could this be?
I still can’t wrap my head around it. That day, I could barely talk. I wouldn’t call anyone. I simply could not bear to say the words out loud.
My father is dead. My father is dead.
My father is dead!
I choke on them still. My fingers stutter and skip keys as I type them. You were alone in your room for two days before they found you. I hate that you were alone. You shouldn’t have been alone. You should’ve been here with me.
The following day I began making calls. Only a few. One of the friends that was with me when I got that call from T sat with me and watched me quietly through all of it. She told me that she’d never seen me look as I did that day.
A shadow of me. A broken me. It’s the only way I can define it based on how she described it and based on how I felt.
That night my body shook with sobs as I wept over the loss of you. I’ve never cried so hard in my life and I’ve never felt that level of emotional pain. It was endless.
Losing you rocked me to my core and I hadn’t been prepared for it in any way, shape, or form. I simply... wasn’t.
A year later, it’s still not any easier. I’m still not prepared. Some days it’s actually worse. Some days, I’m assaulted with the knowledge of you being gone and the reality of it knocks me on my ass, hard, and I can’t breathe. I cry a lot. Still.
I went to NY a few days after the call. I took my son, your twenty-one year old grandson, with me. He walked through all of it with me. We cleaned out your small apartment. We handled your affairs, and we had your funeral.
Many people came. Many people loved you; they mourned you. And people stood up and spoke for you. I stood up and spoke for you. And I gave you the best that I could. It wasn’t what you wanted as a service, but it was the best I could do.

Then I came home.
A shadow of me. A broken me.
So much has happened since you’ve been gone. Good things, bad things, and everything in between.
There are moments when I need to talk to you. In those moments I need to hear you tell me it’s all going to be okay or tell me you’re proud of me. And there are moments I need to hear you call me Puppy and then I need to laugh and joke with you.
Everyone says you already know all of the things I want to tell you, but it’s not the same. It’s just... not. No one knows me like you do. No one understands me like you do. I’m cut from your mold. I’m your kid, as you always used to say.
You are supposed to be here and it’s just not right that you aren’t.
I sold my first book and it launched this week, Daddy and my God, I just want to call you so badly and tell you all about it. I want you to call on Sunday, right at dinnertime, just like you always did for years. I want to hear you say, “What’s up?” So I can say, “Just sitting down to have dinner.” And then you can reply, “Oh! I’m sorry.”
The same, every week. I laugh about it because you always sounded so surprised that it was dinnertime.
But Sunday comes each week and my phone doesn’t ring. I guess it would be kinda’ crazy if it did, but still, I guess I want to believe that it could happen because I need it to.
I know you’re watching. I’m sure you know everything that’s happened and is still happening. I know you’re in my heart. And I know that you know I love you.
But I want to tell you anyway.
So, this is the best I can do. A letter that you can’t read, but others will. A letter I need to write so I can honor you.
I miss you so damn much it amazes me. I never thought I would miss you this much. I never thought I’d still be crying a year later. You were a grumpy pain in my ass, but I liked you. A lot.
I loved listening to you complain about work, or whatever issue was going on with you, though I didn’t know at the time I loved it. And I loved telling you about my writing as well as sharing my troubles with you, this I did know at the time.
I know that you died knowing I love you. And I know you loved me, too.
I love you, Daddy and I miss you so much it’s agonizing. But I know you’re at peace. And out of everything, that’s the best I could hope for.
Your Puppy


Jen said...

As tears run down my face I can feel the hurt and the grief through your words. My dad is my hero and sounds a lot like yours. I found myself crying and laughing at some of your words. and that's just it. there are no words. not when you're left with a gap that won't heal. but through your words and sharing, he is and continues to touch those around you and him. thank you for sharing such an intimate letter to your dad. *is that you at the bottom? looks just like C. xoxo sweetie. as always your writing is not only read but it's felt.

Caren Crane said...

Dorothy, what a sweet, sad post and what a wretched time for you. I lost my dad 18 years ago and it still catches me off guard sometimes. I don't know if it gets easier over time, but at least it's less immediate these days. I'm so glad you had a chance to share your writing and life with him before he left. Many hugs to you!

Louisa Bacio said...

I completely understand that "fresh" feeling of loss. My heart goes out to you, and I'll definitely think twice about, "just sitting down to eat" because oh, yes, it happens here, too.

Much love my friend.

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