This time of year is always the hardest for me, and just like last year I'll be spending it alone and lost in my thoughts. It's probably good that I spend tonight alone because I avoid even thinking about this every other day of the year, save February the twenty-seventh.
Tonight, for many people, is just another cold and wintery night. For those of us in my state we're stuck in what seems like an eternal winter with snow and ice that may never melt. For three of us, however, tonight will be engraved on our hearts as, single-handedly, the worst night of our lives.
Two years ago tonight, my mother, sister, father, and I would go to sleep like everyone else. We expected to wake up on Saturday, the twenty-fifth of January and go about our business for the day, just like every other one preceding it. Around four o'clock that morning we couldn't have been more wrong. It was the day Daddy died.
I had originally wanted to put "my father" instead of "Daddy," but it's been so long since I've said his name out loud. Up until now I've always referred to him as "my dad" in conversation, possessively like he isn't here, and I hate it. Even though it's undeniably true, it's the reality I've been living and running from for two years now.
I sit here reading the eulogy I gave at his memorial (because words like "funeral" hurt more than they should; when I speak of Daddy I do so as a way to remember a good man and the life he shared with me as my father, not mourning the days we can never spend together), and I'm reminded of the little things that made our time so precious. I also sit here reading a post detailing the morning he died. Awful memories are awoken, forcing me to feel the emotions I shrug off everyday, thinking all the thoughts I've been so desperately trying to to avoid, shedding the tears I've blinked away on countless occasions. Tonight is the night I remind myself of these unfortunate events because I know how important they are.
Tonight as I approach the two-year anniversary of Daddy's passing, I have learned that these unfortunate events need remembering too. It makes remembering all the good memories fonder, the appreciation of the little things more grand, and it makes you realize the significance of the things you once took for granted-even if they are just memories now.
So, after tomorrow morning, I will continue my running. I will push away all of the could-have-been's and never-will-be's as far away as I can. Why? Because underneath it all is a daddy's girl who still loves her father more than anyone in the world. There's a daddy's girl who still looks up to her father even though she knows she can't see him any more. There's a little girl who doesn't want to admit that her daddy is really gone.
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I told myself I wouldn't write this post, but I couldn't stop. Growing up Daddy always believed that I would grow into being an accomplished author one day, even though I always reassured him I lacked the one thing an accomplished author needs: an imagination. I hope you're proud of me, even if it is about you-your least favorite topic of conversation. I love you, Daddy, and I wish so much that I had one more chance to hear you tell me you love me too.
