I cannot – nor do I want to – write another post like I wrote last year.
This anniversary – the second – hurts less. I knew it would. I knew that it was impossible that so many people could say that time heals all wounds (and wounds all heels, right?) if it weren’t true.
I still miss him terribly. Something will happen, or I’ll see a funny sign or personalized license plate, or hear a really, really lame joke and I’ll think, “ha! I need to share that with Dad.” And then I can’t – and that hurts.
There are so many memories triggered by ordinary, every day things. There are times when I can hear him comment so dryly, so much without inflection, that if you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t know he was being funny. And he was so, so funny.
There are times I find words and phrases pouring out of my mouth that I know I heard from him.
There are things that make me so indescribably sad/angry that I cannot breathe. I don’t know with whom I’m angry, and that makes it worse. It’s hard to admit that I’m a little bit (a lot?) angry at him for having the unmitigated gall to die when he did – both a lot too soon and a little too soon.
There are days, though, when it is okay. Just a fact. An event in the past. It matters – still so very much – and it hurts, but it is okay.
He was amazing. He had a certain level of panache (oh, I wish more people got that awesome joke). There will always be an emptiness. And maybe even someday, I can forgive him.
I miss him but I’ll be okay.
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
-A A Milne