It's been 569 days, in case you were wondering.
Back in November, I decided to do something I've always wanted to do .. I worked tirelessly and finally got my Florida real estate license. Drew and I are going to move there. It's always been my end game. Figuring out the optimal time to move has proven to be the clincher, but I feel accomplished. Fancy even. I set my mind to achieve something and I did it. It was hard and exhausting, but I did it. My family support was unwavering, as always. Pops would indeed be bragging to his pool customers, haha.
In the last almost 8 years of my life, and even more recently, I have come to understand that time is one of, if not the greatest freebies in life. We are afforded the ability to give others our time when we choose to ... and in most instances, it proves to be less than enough. Time with our children, time with our aging parents, siblings, time with good friends for impromptu beers and bonfires. I figured out, with the help of one of my favorite people on the planet that my father's death opened my eyes to time. Simple as hell ... And it hit me like a truck when he said it…that whole epiphany thing. Yes, time may be free, but it goes by faster than I care to admit, my darlings, so spend it wisely. And always remember, you're allowed to leave any story.
Spend. It. Wisely.
Like my last $5. I'd choose Starbucks every time. Wise.
Since pops left us, countless friends of mine have lost their parent(s). It's a club no one wants to join. The initiation is brutal. I swear, until you lose a parent, you have absolutely no idea where we're coming from. Did you read where I said it's been 569 days? Yea that's 569 days of thinking about my dad and wishing I could have just 10 more minutes. 5 even. Thankfully, the times of WHOLE day crying have greatly diminished. Now instead of the 16 hrs I'm awake and not dreaming of him, I only think of him 15:57. I think I'm making great progress. Fuckin A.
Yes, yes. I am fully aware that I can't let the pain dictate my demeanor. I heard that dumb shit the other day ... **this is me rolling my eyes.**
Don't worry, I've already tried. I've pinched myself 1000 times. My dad is really gone.
The number of occasions on record because of mom's trusty camcorder are many, but somehow still not enough. We watch them often. I know I've mentioned before how grateful I am that mom followed all of us around at every single family function with a camera in our faces. She had no idea what she was creating for everyone around her. Mostly now, for Drew. She gets to hear my dad's voice whenever she wants to. She gets to see him in his prime loving his kids, loving my mom, she gets to hear all of us worshipping our first hero. She asks a lot of questions and I love to tell her stories to make her laugh. I am well aware that Drew having 6 years with my dad and now hearing the stories and feeling his legacy has been one of the greatest gifts she will receive in this lifetime. Actually, I as her mother consider it a gift to myself. My parents and family have been my other half in raising this little lady. That's quite a remarkable foundation and I am forever indebted.
Honestly ask yourself if you think you've done enough. If you've asked enough questions, spent enough time, expressed enough, hugged enough, laughed enough. The answer is always going to be no. You cannot prepare for lost time, or make up for it, but for right now, you can be present. Make sense? In other words just be in every moment you encounter. The heartache is tangible and achingly raw when the minutes are gone, so do yourself a favor and BE in every moment you can. Be conscious about it.
Let that sink in. Today, not tomorrow.
To Drew, you will always have parts of papa inside you. The parts of you that are kind and thoughtful; the parts of you that are funny and inquisitive; the parts that are helpful and understanding. Those are you, mixed with him: The grandest brew I ever did see. I am doing my absolute best to keep him in the forefront of that little mind of yours. This loss has been tremendous. Thank you for helping me to see what is important. I'm so proud of who you are. He's with us always, I promise.
To Dad, the words "I miss you" and "I wish I could ..." are so fucking old to me. There's gotta be some other verbiage in the English language no one knows to describe this awareness. It's painful, hollow, it's all consuming, frightening, it's daunting, causes me to panic frequently, and I. LOATHE. IT. I never want to forget your voice or the way it felt when you hugged me. Safe. I never want to forget your jokes, the way your eyes lit up at Disney World, the way you looked at Drew, and the way you loved my mom. I never want to forget your hands. Those hardworking, gentle hands. They could carry boulders and lay brick, pull back on the greenest of stallions, or touch the end of a baby's nose to make her smile. Your kindness is unparalleled. Thank you for my childhood and all the years after. Thank you for showing Drew how it's done. Thank you for showing me how it's done.
Those are some lucky fucking angels. I didn't get to love you long enough here.
