The last three weeks have gone by whether I wanted them to or not. Some days have been really fast, most have been really slow. I keep expecting my dad to walk up to my door, knock and walk in.
I see him every where I go. I saw a really tall guy (my dad was 6'5") at the store the other day and had to do a double take. Today I was going up to my mom's and I saw a truck that, at first, looked JUST like my dads. When I got up to it it looked nothing like it. But my heart just skipped a beat cause I was so sure it was him. The other day I walked into his camper trailer and just started bawling...it smelled so much like him it was overwhelming.
I wish I could hear his voice again, to record it. I am afraid that I will forget what he sounds like.
I wish I could have one of his hugs again, just to feel it.
I wish I could smell his cigarettes again (NASTY HABIT!) Just to know he was nearby.
I wish, more than anything, that I could see him again. And see him as he was in life, not in death.
I miss him so much. I miss him more than I have ever missed anyone in my life. And losing him has hurt more than anything in my life has, up to this point.
One of these days I won't cry at the mention of his name. One of these days I won't cry when someone asks how I am doing.
I wasn't ready for him to go. I guess we never are. But if my dad had passed away at 80 or 90 or so, or had been sick, I could have prepared myself for it better. It would have still hurt, but maybe not as bad. He was to young, his death was too violent for me. I was preparing my dad's funeral when he was only 50. I wasn't ready for that. 50 years, 3 months, and 11 days.
I miss him so much.
I love you dad.