It is nine months today since you breathed your last breath. Nine months, and I still grieve your death.
I miss you. I miss your smile, I miss your laugh, I miss your hugs - I miss you.
Why is it getting harder? I go about my days, my weeks, and life goes on; and yet, there is an emptiness that I cannot deny. There are snippets of joy, moments when a genuine smile appears on my face - but it is only temporary. My life is gray. Everything 'just is'.
This morning I awoke and my thoughts are of you. I remember the day you came home. We were celebrating your homecoming, joyful you were back where you wanted to be. We had 'welcome home' balloons, and many of your loved ones were there to greet you. We went down to meet the ambulance and we walked alongside the gurney; we settled you and made sure you were comfy. All this, knowing you had come home to die. And that thought is what I cannot escape today. You came home to die.
What a blessing to have those days to say goodbye. But it wasn't enough. I would give anything to have you here again, to kiss you, to hear you call me 'Poopsie', to hear you say 'give Terry a tweak for me'. How I would love to call home and have you answer the phone, only to hear 'dammit', and the phone go dead b/c you hit the wrong button! I'm thinking of the upcoming months - your birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Those days were so special to you, and you loved to have your family gathered around. How will it be this year? We'll be scattered and apart, and you won't be here. I know going back to Maryland this Christmas won't happen...the memories of your last weeks will be too hard and we'll all be processing things in our own way.
I know you are in a better place. But selfishly I want you here. I want to cry in your arms and feel the comfort that only you can give. Nine months and counting, Daddy...