I love you, Dad

Kirby and I have been watching Dead Like Me. It is actually a pretty good series with comedy that touches on really hard topics dealing with death, the meaning, why it has to happen, and why that person??

My dad was my mom's rock, her love, her soul mate. I can't even fathom in my mind how it feels for her, no matter how "prepared" you try to make your mind.

I wasn't particularly close to my dad, but I think these last few years we had developed a mutual understanding of each other. I don't remember telling him specifically that I loved him, but I hope he knew it. I wasn't really a daddy's girl... In fact, most of my childhood I was angry he wasn't there. I wanted to know what it was like to have a dad around, but even when I was reunited and had the opportunity- I didn't jump into it. I was happy just knowing that I was part of the reason he moved 2000 miles closer.

I still have every letter, birthday card, and Christmas card I have ever gotten. I know he loved me. I know he was proud of me, even if he didn't say it aloud. Conversations didn't flow like milk and honey all the time, but that was okay. I didn't feel I had much in common, but I was happy to get to know him better. I was excited to see him at family events and that my children got to know him, even though he was often too weak to rough house and play.

Ironically what I've been thinking most about all day was my blog. When I got into a blog drama a couple years ago he got interested in them. Not for the drama, but because of me. He didn't know I liked to blog and looked forward to reading them. I never outright told him, but I knew he liked my blogs so I opened up more than normal to let him in. I liked that he read them. It made me feel special.

I know this is selfish, but I keep thinking I should have blogged more for him and now I feel this little empty hole that he won't be able to read them. It was like my special connection. I should have put more effort into it for him.

I always read and hear people saying to tell people you love them now because you never know, blah, blah, blah, but I never think it's me. How cliche because now I'm passing that message along. Funny, I used to call for my mom and always thought I should talk to him more and I just didn't a whole lot. My dad was the quiet one. He didn't complain and he certainly wasn't a chatter box like myself.

My mom says I have his smile. I think my brother looks a lot like him, though.

Now my focus must avert to my mother. If it's hard on me and my brother I know it's going to be rough on her. I'm worried for her. I love my mom so much and I don't want her hurting. It took her a long time to get to where she was- to find her happiness. We went through a lot growing up and she deserved to be happy once she and my dad rekindled their fire. I wish this was just "another scare" and he could be back with her so her pain could ease.

Lastly, I prayed for my dad (and my mom) every day for months and months for their salvation. I don't know where he stood or how religious he was. I don't know his beliefs and I resolved to myself to ask when he was conscious in the hospital. I never got that chance and now I don't know for sure. He was a good man. I know what the bible says. It doesn't matter if you're a good man or not (and that is so confusing). John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life"