I’m sad today.
I woke up sad. And unlike many days, it hasn’t faded with the sun rise, but has stayed with me.
Today I signed my first born up for Kindergarten. She wore a dress, because she always wears a dress. She wore red tights, and a denim jacket and I hope I always remember that she topped off the outfit with a set of bunny ears. Because she is my mighty Kate, full of life and surprises and personality. And special. She is so, so full of special.
Dad would have loved to hear about her bunny ears. It wouldn’t have surprised him. He saw Kate. Really SAW her. He knew her every flaw, and every talent she has been blessed with, and he loved it all. The whole package. He loved her. So, so much.
And that is why I’m sad today. Not because my baby is growing up and heading off to school, but because Dad isn’t here to share it with us.
In two days, it will have been two months since Dad passed. While she has quite telling me she just wants to see him one more time, Kate still asks me, nearly every week, if I’m sad that Pops is dead. If I miss him. I believe she asks to make sure its okay that she is still sad. Because she is hurting. And so am I. We miss him. We are so, so sad. I don’t live in the sadness every day. I can’t. But days like today it seems to swell up around me until it hurts to breathe because I miss him so much.
And I’m angry. I am so, so angry. I am so fucking angry. I want to scream I am so angry. It rises up in my throat and chokes me. Because it is unfair, it is so unfair. And I know death isn’t fair. But this death has robbed me of one of the best men I know. It has robbed my daughter of such a special relationship with a man who loved her beyond all measure, who saw the sun in her and would have been one of her greatest cheerleaders in life.
I don’t know if any of this will go away. Maybe time smooths it all out like stones in a river, but at this moment my sadness and my anger are sharp and painful and it hurts and I feel like it will never be okay. That there will never be another milestone that passes with simply joy and excitement, but instead these moments will always be under the shadow of this deep sadness.
I miss you Daddy. You should have seen Kate today.
You would have loved it.
4 thoughts on “She sparkled”
Thank you for sharing Liz. After our son died my husband’s paternal grandfather (who buried my husband’s father about 13 years ago) put his arm around me and said “it never goes away, but it does get easier.” He was right. I hope that gives you some peace like it gave me because loosing someone doesn’t ever go away, but it does get easier with time.
So sweet Liz! Today was he 15 year anniversary of my dad’s death. Just keep reminding her if Pops. You will be surprised at what she remembers. I was five when my dad’s mom passed and I do remember her. I didn’t have as many memories with her as Kate fortunately had with her Pops however she will remember him and keep telling stories if him to your kids as they grow up they will feel like they knew him all their life!!
I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. I hope you feel the Lord’s presence during this time!
Just attended a funeral today of a best friend’s Ex-husband who passed away at 43. Seeing those two llittle girls with red, swollen tear-filled eyes was killer. Just heartbreaking. Can’t imagine. So sorry.