August 12, 2019
August 12th is always hard. Truthfully, the 1st two weeks of August are hard because I know what is coming.
There are so many things that I replay in my head leading up to this day.
What I did. The events of the day. What my room at school looked like. Even what the sky looked like, but I have no memory of what I was wearing that day.
I remember our last Father’s Day. I had my little point & shoot camera; I’d brought it to specifically snap pictures of us for Father’s Day. Only I didn’t. I remember thinking “I’ll get it next year…” Only there wasn’t a next year.
On August 12, 2014, I received a phone call around 8:00AM with news that my dad passed away suddenly. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to say anything. I remember being at work, walking through the hallways like a zombie. I couldn’t get back to my room fast enough. I just wanted to go home. I was in shock!
I grabbed my things, and rushed out the door. It seemed to take forever, and at the same time it happened so quickly, to get home.
I remember thinking “why didn’t I call?” “Oh how I WISHED I had called!” That Sunday, before my dad passed, Jason asked me if I was going to call my dad & schedule something for my birthday. We were standing in the bedroom and I told him, “it’s Sunday, he’s probably napping after church, or busy. I’ll call him this week.” I should have called.
Instead of celebrating for my birthday that year, I spent it at the funeral home, picking out a casket & planning my dad’s funeral.
As odd as it sounds, I remember watching a LOT of The Pioneer Woman that week. I remember thinking how soothing and comforting her cooking show was. Isn’t it crazy the things that happen when you go through losing a loved one? To this day, every time I watch The Pioneer Woman, I find it peaceful. Kinda weird huh?
I thought about how I’d never receive another birthday card from him, or hear him on the other end of the phone singing me “Happy Birthday.” (my dad could also sing really well & he could play the piano, even though he never took lessons.)
Two days later on my birthday, I received a card. He mailed it! The last birthday card I got from him was that year. It arrived the day after he passed away. I keep it tucked away in the safe.
Our last photo together….November 2013.
My dad left this Earth and met his Savior, sometime after he fell asleep. He was scheduled to tour the White Sox stadium the next day. We are so very fortunate that he was with Thomas. Daddy always joked when he was with him, that he was “with his undertaker.” (Thomas really IS is a licensed undertaker). And because he knew all of my dad’s medications, was a licensed undertaker, etc… he didn’t have to go with the Cook County Medical Examiner.
I remember the weather the day of the funeral. For mid-August, the weather was PERFECT! It wasn’t scorching hot. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue and it held the most fluffy white clouds.
There are days where I’m going along about my day, and his memory hits me like a ton of bricks! A song, a scent, or even a comment I’ll make, which sounds exactly like him! Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of him as we had the same blue eyes.
There are so many things I’d like to say to him. So many questions I’d like to ask him, only I can’t. I miss him a TON & hope that he is proud of me!
Love you so much Daddy!