Tuesday, December 30, 2014

I'm 12. I'm still a child. I'm a young, terrified child.

My mom is only 36. She's still young. She's got a whole life still yet to live.

My brother is 8. My sister is 10. They are so young and they've been through more than the average adult has been through.

My dad was 44. He was a jokester, a prankster, a coach, a son, a good man, a path coordinator. He was a husband. He was a dad.
He IS all of those things.

If I could go back to December 13th at about 12:30 A.M., I'd be downstairs, waking my dad up and telling him to go upstairs and put on his breathing machine thing. I wouldn't be laying in bed listening to the T.V. play and him snore.

I would be trying to save his life, or telling my mom to go down and save him. I wouldn't be laying there, thinking everything was okay, that when I woke up, my dad would still be sitting there watching TV and cracking jokes.

My dad is gone.
He has passed on.
He is in heaven.

He was so young; and except for his heart, overall he seemed to be a pretty healthy guy. I didn't tell him enough, but I love him. I miss him a lot. My mom misses him. My siblings miss him.

I always thought he'd always be here. In a way... I thought my dad was invincible. He always seemed to bounce back, from surgeries or stress or what not. I thought we'd be celebrating Christmas together like always, and maybe him and my grandma would put stuff on their heads again. I thought him and my mom would celebrate their 14th anniversary as the ball drops in New York.
I thought my dad would still be here.

I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm all of these emotions that keep pulling me every which way. I thought we'd be at Project Dance Detroit and my mom, brother and him would be watching my sister and I dance. I thought my sister and dad would be at our AHG troop's father daughter dance, annoying the other girls with jokes about farts and meerkats (long story). I thought my brother would watch stupid cheesy movies with him and laugh about 'Shark-nados'.

I never got to watch Oculus with my dad, or show him the eighth series of Doctor Who, or give him his Christmas present. And you know what? I would give up Doctor Who, and pizza, and electronics, and all these stupid things I've gotten so attached to if it meant I could have my dad back.

Please, I'm begging you; no matter how much your dad, or stepdad, or granddad annoys you, give them a hug, or a smile, or a wave. Tell them I love you, make them a card, do something. No matter if you aren't close or are super close, no matter if you disagree on a lot of things, appreciate your dad.
You never know what tomorrow is going to bring.

The last word I said to my dad was 'night'. Nothing grand, or profound, or spectacular. Nothing important. The last thing he said to me was, "see you tomorrow,". I never got to 'see him tomorrow'.
 He said the only thing he wanted for Christmas was to still be alive. Oh, how I wish that his last wish had been granted a million times over.  I wish I had told him how much he meant to me, or at least hadn't of been so mean or rude to him. I wish I had appreciated him more.

My family and I have been through so much this year, it's not in the slightest bit funny. My mom found my uncle after attempting to commit svicide. My sister and I walked in after our sweet darling guinea pigs had been brutally murdered by our old dogs. We lost our old house because of severe plumbing issues, we've been getting sick, like, constantly, and I've been battling my own demons- literally and figuratively.

I was so wrapped up in my issues I never stopped to appreciate my dad or any of my other family. I regret it so badly. It breaks your heart to see your mom bending over a coffin to give her husband one last kiss. It breaks your heart to see your grandparents weeping over their son, who just a couple days ago was running around like normal. It breaks your heart to see your siblings standing next to their dad and not really understanding what is going on.

I miss my daddy. I love him, and I regret not telling him.
Please try to appreciate your family as much as possible. It really IS worth it.


  1. I'm so sorry for your loss. I'll keep you in my thoughts.

  2. I loved reading this sweetie. Love you, Mom

  3. My heart grieves for you and your family. Thank you for this powerful post.

    Laraba Kendig

  4. You are a blessing! I know your mother lives you and appreciate you, couldn't make it through this without you. You have given all of us a lesson. At 40 years old, I'm blessed to still have my dad. When I see him today, I'm going to hug him just a little tight and make sure that he knows that I love him when we part ways. Thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing your heart with us!