I still remember making this post to put on Facebook. I waited until the end of the day giving family time to receive the news and after I had just met with the Funeral Director. This was and is still the hardest post I ever had to make. I bawled my eyes out trying to type up something that would make sense. It's hard to believe it's been a year.
This is the anniversary I've been dreading the most. It was hard to sleep last night as my brain wanted to remember everything I and my family experienced a year ago. The day before dad passed was the hardest for sure. I won't go into details, but that night when I went home, I collapsed from exhaustion and just cried my eyes out to my husband and God. As my husband wrote in his journal, that day broke me. I wasn't sure how long I could continue on and I questioned everything God was doing.
The next morning something told me to be prepared. Maybe it was God. But on the way to Mom and Dad's, Mom called to ask how close we were and we told her just a few minutes. When we arrived she said, I think he is gone. I went right to him and checked. She was right. He was gone. He had gone peacefully in his sleep. I thanked God and cried. I never wanted Dad gone, but I didn't want him to suffer. Neither did God, so he took Dad home.
The rest of the day was a complete blur. We had a few visitors, including Father Leo. He knew Dad very well. He had called just a few minutes after we got there and I informed him of what was going on. He came over immediately. He offered words of comfort, prayers and so much support. I know I continued to make calls and inform as many family members and friends as I could.
Eventually, Mark and I would have to leave to go to the Funeral Home. That took the longest, mostly because Jefferson Barracks was backed up. We were lucky to get in when we did. We had planned the funeral to be on January 12, 2021, with visitation the night before. That gave us nine days to prepare for the hardest days of our lives: Saying our final goodbyes to my Dad.
After we left the funeral home, it was already night time and that's when I made that post on Facebook. I just alternated being numb and crying my eyes out. I don't know how I slept that night except for the fact I was utterly exhausted. I forced down food, but couldn't taste anything.
The next few days I found myself talking to Dad saying things like, "Dad what suit is your favorite?" or "Dad what pins were special to you?". It's those moments like that make it real that he is gone. I still have moments where I wish I could just call him and ask him something.
One year later... It's so hard to believe it's been a year. It's been such a blur. But every day I function a little better. Writing these Year of Firsts posts have been so therapeutic. My first goal was to just get through the first year. Now it's time to allow the healing process to go to the next level.
I have so much peace in the knowledge of where my dad is today and that he is not suffering or worrying anymore. I have no real regrets when it comes to my Dad. I loved him and made sure he knew that. We made many memories together. We apologized for past hurts. We mended bridges between us. He shared many things about his past, which I know were hard for him to do. There are still questions I wish I had answers for, but he either wouldn't or didn't provide them... and I'm ok with that.
Grief is horrible and a huge pain in the butt. It definitely comes in waves and takes me down some days. But I cling to God to get me through. As I tell my teen, we hurt this much because we loved so much. Now it's time to remember with smiles. As I told Dad when I visited his grave last, it's time for me to move on, knowing I will still miss him and grieve, but I've got work to do. And I laughed after I said that. If you know my dad, you know why. It's something Dad would always say. "Good I'm glad you're here, we got a lot of work to do." Something that always used to drive me nuts, but now I'm saying it.
Yesterday, as the reality of what the next day would be, I found myself struggling just to function. I called mom to talk to her for a bit and while I was on the phone, I had a special surprise outside my kitchen window.
Just when I needed it the most, God had a cardinal in the trees in my backyard. I had to stop and take a picture. Unfortunately, I don't have a great zoom on my phone or camera, so it is quite grainy. I instantly felt peace. I knew God was telling me it was going to be alright. Soon after the photo, he disappeared and I didn't see him again. Thank you, God.
Dad I still miss you like hell, but we will be ok. God's got us. You just enjoy time with Papa, Grandma, Uncle Kevin, and other family members... including Teddy. I will see you again one day and I know you will say, "Good I'm glad you're here, we've got a lot of work to do!" Love you Dad.
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