five years later

It was five years ago today that my dad died. In fact, it was five years ago almost exactly to when I got the call from my mom. In shock, my hand still on the phone, my sister called with the same disbelief I was experiencing myself. And after our phone call ended, I called the hub, then my fiance, to tell him. It was in telling him that it suddenly became true. Luckily he was on the way to visit me (no surprise has even played out so well in timing) and by the time he arrived I was packed for the seven hour haul to Virginia Beach. We drove to the courthouse for me to drop off papers for the judge for whom I was clerking at the time, some useless work I'd brought home that I never finished, and we left on that cold January night. The hub drove the entire trip, and we pulled into my mom's driveway at dawn.

When he died my life was in a very different place than it is now. He died six months before my wedding, one year before my first move to Oklahoma, three and a half years before the birth of Britton. I never got to share any of it with him. See, we weren't especially sentimental with each other growing up. My dad, because of reasons I know and reasons I'll never know, couldn't be a huge part of my daily life. I think when it came down to it, he just didn't know what to do with my sister and I. And as I got older I released the resentment and accepted whatever part he wanted to play in my life. I just wanted to appreciate whatever it was of him that he was willing to give to me.

I miss him. It's not every day, but the ache will hit me at random - a song, a moment, something just sets off his memory. And I hate that he can't see me now, can't be a part of the life I have created, can't know how incredible his granddaughter is, won't ever take me out on his boat for Fourth of July fireworks, won't meet my sister's husband or new baby, couldn't walk me down the aisle, couldn't give me away to the groom, will never send me another card with the words, "Love Dad."

But I have to believe that he really hasn't missed a thing - he knows it all, just in some other way. Call it heaven, call it afterlife, call it whatever you like. He's as much a part of me as he ever was, even if he's not in front of me.