363 days later.

1.24.10 

When I was young, one of my household duties was to take the silverware from the dishwasher, sort it, and put it away.  One day, daddy asked me to do something that was not on the list of things I planned to do that night.  And at 5 years old, I turned to him said, “that is not a part of my job description, and it is not on my resume.”  Needless to say, I am my father’s daughter.  Although Daddy was amused that he’d rubbed off on me at such a young age, I still had to do that chore that was not on my job description or on my resume.

Over the years, I learned many things from daddy.  As a child, I learned the value of hard work, the meaning of friendship, that every sentence doesn’t need a comma, and that when daddy was deep in conversation, I needed to find something to occupy my time because we weren’t leaving until daddy was ready to go.

As I matured, I learned that the only limits in life are those we set for ourselves- and that if I don’t believe in myself, no one will.

Daddy was not a man changed by his accomplishments- he remained true to that young man who grew up on Fleming Street in Greenville, NC, working hard to make sure he and his family had a better life. 

It wasn’t always easy being [his] daughter.  Daddy had high expectation- for me, for himself and everyone around him.  He never mixed his words.  Daddy said what needed to be said, even if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.  Now I thank him for that.  He was determined to make me strong- and he succeeded.

Daddy, I thank you for all that you did for me and for everyone in this auditorium.  Thank you for teaching us that success is not measured by cars we drive or the money in our bank accounts—although a monthly budget is important--- but our success is measured by the people we impact throughout our lives and the legacy we leave behind. 

Daddy, I thank you and Mama for believing in me.  Thank you both for helping me find my way…and for letting me find my voice. 

I will always remember daddy at his best- full suit and tie, spit shined shoes, rared back, a legal pad and a felt tip pen walking across campus to tell someone what needed to be done and how he wanted it done. 

You fought a good fight, Daddy…and I am proud to be your daughter. 

You always said that I will be ok…and I have no reason to question that.  He was right about everything else, so I know he was right about that.

I’d tell you to stay out of trouble up there, but I know better.  

I love you always. 

 

almost a year.

last year sucked.  there's no pretty way to say it.  2010 absolutely sucked.   i cried every day driving to school.  i lost weight, then gained it back plus some.  my hair shed.  i had panic attacks.  i couldn't fall asleep without a sleep aid- and even with one i didn't sleep through the night.  for the first time ever, i didn't care that i got a C on a final. 

i was so angry- i'm still angry.  part of me will always be angry at my dad...that was the nature of our relationship.  we were too similar to be civilized more than 25% of the time we were together.  i thrived on proving that i could succeed without his help.  he thrived on my success.  and now, i have to do it without him.

as the first anniversary of my dad's death approaches, i'm filled with mixed emotions.  i can't believe it's been a year.  i can't believe my mom and i are still standing. mostly, i can't believe he isn't coming back. 

according to hospice, the 'year of firsts'- birthdays, holidays, anniversaries- is the hardest.  i didn't get out of bed father's day...i barely survived graduation.  i had a panic attack christmas eve & spent 20 minutes screaming "i don't understand why he can't come back...why can't he just come back?"

that's the thing about death- no matter how old we get, we never understand.  it never gets easier- but it doesn't sting as much.  we feel like the person we love will walk around the corner at any given moment.  sometimes i still forget he's gone...then i remember & lose him all over again. 

sometimes i'm so consumed with his death that i forget about his life.  my dad had an infectious laugh.  he loved my mother more than anything.  he was TIGHT with a dollar.  he was brilliant.  he wrote my last undergrad paper for me...i left my research in his office and came home to a 20 page term paper written on a legal pad.  he loved sports- and we probably screamed in unison at that oregon 2-point conversion.

i'll always miss my dad.  i'll feel his absence every day for the rest of my life.  this year i'll remember the good times.  he'd want it that way.