It's been one month since I've last spoken to you, teased you, played a hidden picture game while watching stupid reality TV with you. One month since I've seen you burn things, passed by you in the living room and rested my chin on your head or hugged you. One month since I've heard you say "Hey girl," as I walked by, or endured your teasing or heard one of your many sound effects.
I miss it more than I can ever say. Oh God, how I miss it. I miss it so much that I'm too numb to even feel it. That doesn't make much sense, does it? I don't know how else to explain it. It's like I've removed any sense of feeling, hollowed myself out until I'm a shell of nothingness just to find a way to manage with how overwhelming all of this is.
I started seeing Dr. Marks again. He wasn't taking new patients at the time I called, but he made an exception for me. Once he found out what happened he made sure to do his best to get me in for the rest of the month. He's being really great about it. I hope it helps. It's funny, but grief is what started me on therapy in the first place. All those years of therapy I had kicked off after grandma died. I still have the memory box I made for her in therapy. 14 years later, and it still sits at the top of my closet.
I'm not ready to make one for you yet. I'm not ready to admit that you're only a memory now. I can't. I can't handle that yet.
I miss your voice. I miss the way you smelled; a combination of Zest and Head and Shoulders. You always smelled clean, and it was comforting. I miss telling you I love you. I always kept the thought in the back of my mind that you could never say I love you enough. I made a conscious effort to do it multiple times a week because I've always been afraid of losing you and mom. Mom more than you though. Your family lives forever. Mom's doesn't. I was sure this was going to happen the other way around. I've been trying to prepare myself for that for years. Death is something I have always struggled with. I guess grandpa's death would be part of what set that off. That's all I remember happening before my obsession with ghost stories and Ouija boards began. I remember being upset, too. It's one of my earliest memories.
You've never worried like that though. You never let much get to you. It always bothered you that I did. I'm sure if you were here, you'd be very bothered by how hard I am taking this. I know you hated watching me grieve for Tango. That whole month you tried everything to ease me out of it and make me happy. At one point you even just begged me to smile again. I wish you were here now. You always made things easier to bear. You just handled everything so easily and so calmly. I always wished I could be more like you in that regard. I always felt like I failed you because I wasn't. And now, here we are.
I miss you daddy. I would give up everything and do anything in my power to make you come back. I wasn't done with you yet. We had plans. You had plans. You were suppose to get old. I was suppose to tease you about your socks and fashion choices and remind you you gave me the right to shoot you if you ever wore black socks and sandals. It makes me so angry that you spent most of your life taking care of other people and never asking for anything in return and you never got to do the one thing you wanted most. All you wanted was to retire and enjoy yourself. It absolutely eats me up inside that you never got that chance. There are so many things I'm angry about, but I won't get into them here.
I don't feel like I spent enough time with you. I don't feel like I told you I loved you or hugged you enough. I don't feel like I thanked you enough for being such an incredible father. I don't feel like I turned out to be what I should have to reflect how incredible you were.
God I miss you daddy. And I love you.
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