To My Dad on the Third Anniversary of His Death
by Jenners • 08/22/2012 • Love and Loss • 84 Comments
Taking a break from the cruise recap to “visit” with my dad a little …
Dear Dad,
It has been three years since you left us.
I miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss asking for your advice. I miss telling you about good books I’ve read. I miss talking music with you. I miss our Oscar night check-ins. I miss playing Carmina Burana with you on the first day of spring. I miss your letters arriving in the mail filled with illegible notes and random newspaper clippings. I miss your presence at family events when there is no one to cut to the front of the buffet line and go back for seconds before others have had their firsts. Damn it … I just miss you.
Remember when I was younger and you took me to see 2001: A Space Odyssey? (Remember how the film melted right when HAL was having his psychotic breakdown and I thought it was part of the film and showing how HAL’s “brain” had become corrupted.?) Afterwards, we puzzled out what it meant and talked about how if we had the opportunity to communicate with each other from the Great Beyond, we would totally do it. I haven’t gotten any specific messages from you yet … unless it WAS you sending those butterflies and that rainbow in the sky. I was hoping for something really blatant but I don’t know exactly what you can do. (When we went hiking in Glacier last year to visit the spot where you died, I KNOW it was Mom who sent the grizzly bears. She thought we were overdoing it and sent us back. It was blatantly obvious.)
Speaking of Mom, it makes me happy to think of you two being together again — even though I wish both of you were still here with us. It was hard for her without you. You left so suddenly and we didn’t get to say goodbye. (Mom left us suddenly without a goodbye too. What is up with you two?) That aching feeling of incompleteness in our relationship will just never leave me. I wish we could have talked one last time. Or seen each other again. I miss you and mom so damn much. It doesn’t feel right to be in the world without you guys — the people who brought me into this world and helped shape me into the woman I am today. There is an empty space in my heart that won’t be filled until I’m in your presence again.
Jeez … now I’m sitting here typing this through my tears. Most days, I keep this grief tamped way way down but today I’m letting it well up and I’m feeling your loss. I talked to Chris last night and I know he is missing you something fierce. He’s hanging in there but I know he’s had a really tough time. If anyone needs your messages from the Great Beyond, it is him so I’m totally fine if you grace him with that.
Us kids are doing our best to love and cherish each other but we form a triangle now instead of a square (you guys were the fourth corner). A square was so balanced and stable and worked no matter which way you turned it. Now, with us three kids, we’re a little less solid and out of balance. I’m trying to keep it upright but I feel like we’re fracturing a bit. I will work on that. I know you’d want us to.
So, I don’t know what else to say that I haven’t said a million times to you.
I love you. I miss you. I wish I could see and talk to you and give you one last hug, have one last conversation. To say goodbye properly. Just know that wherever you are in the great wide universe, I’m thinking of you and loving you and missing you … today and every day.
Love,
Jen
” Whenever I see your smiling face / I have to smile myself / Because I love you (Yes I do) ” — James Taylor, “Your Smiling Face”
This letter is so beautiful. Your Mom and Dad are beaming with pride and love for you. I teach CCD and I seem to always manage to bring up my Dad and how I feel that he is with me. He is probably chuckling that he is always popping up in my conversations and now even lesson plans.
Even if we never meet (and I hope someday we will), I feel privileged that you share so much of you with us here. Thank you. Your writing helps me in my moments of grief.
I sincerely hope we get to meet in real life some day. I think we have a lot in common and have made such a connection just in this “virtual” world. I hate that sharing the loss of our dads is one of those things that binds us though.
Having just lost my father, I was unable to read this entire post. I had to skip to the end and just be done with it because I could relate on so many levels that it hurt. What I did read was beautiful and I can imagine that it must be at least cathartic for you. I have been told to write a letter to my father, but I am just not ready yet. Reading this makes me a little more ready though. Thank you for that!
I am so so sorry to hear about your loss. It is horrible and painful and I can imagine that it may be way too soon for you to deal with posts like this. All I can say is I feel your pain and I send you hugs at this difficult time. Hang in there.
Finally was able to read this. So beautiful. He’s still a lucky, lucky man to have a daughter like you.
No no no … I’m a lucky lucky daughter to have had a father like him.
Your looks are such a good amalgam of both your parents. Oh, Jenners, he (your mother, too) is with you more often than you know it. So close. It’s just hard to feel it sometimes. I really appreciated your analogy about moving from a square to a triangle. Hang in there.
Thanks for your lovely and reassuring comment.
I hear your pain. My dad’s been dead for more than 30 years, and every time I need to do something “manly” in the house I have him to thank, he forgot we were girls and I learned to do a great deal for myself, thank goodness, you’ve met handy Andy. I don’t think you ever stop missing them. While I’d like to say it’s easier because I still have my mom, it’s not. They each occupied a different part in my life, and I miss my mom even though she’s still alive, demtia has stolen her away. All I can say is I’m in your corner, we can battle this together if you like. Now I have to stop crying or my son will be hovering over me.
Awww…thanks for sharing. I imagine that having your mother with you but gone might be almost more painful. And your dad did you a great service by “forgetting” you were girls. My dad treated me “regular” too and I love him for it. (He wasn’t handy himself so he couldn’t pass that on but he did educate me about rock music.)
Oh Jenners….I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m just glad that you have so many wonderful memories of him to remember him by. *hugs*
Thanks for your virtual hugs. They do mean so much.
Hugs
Thank you.
That is beautiful and how wonderful that you had that special bond with your dad. xoxo
We did really have a special bond. I’m so glad I have so many memories to look back on.
I cannot believe it has been 3 years??! Wow. Beautiful letter, and I am sorry for your great loss.
I know. It feels like it just happened yesterday in some ways and a long time ago in others. It is weird how grief behaves.
You and your parents were lucky to have each other. The love you have for them is immeasurable. Thank you for sharing this post. It makes me remember to count my blessings because tomorrow is not guaranteed. Thank, Jen
You are so right! Losing my parents so unexpectedly and suddenly did make me realize that you never really know what is coming and you need to appreciate the moment NOW.
*hugs*
Thank you. And I wanted to tell you I got your letter but haven’t gotten around to responding yet. I do plan to write you back … it may have to wait until school starts and I get my life back.
What a beautiful letter, Jen. I wish I could give you a hug. A real one.
Thank you. And sometimes these virtual hugs are just wonderful as well.
It doesn’t get any easier does it? Hugs to you
Not really. I was surprised how much I felt overwhelmed by it when I’ve had it under control for so long. It made me realize that it is always just under the surface.
This touches and breaks my heart. What a precious and dear relationship you had, and I’m sorry that the emptiness never really goes away. (((hugs)))
Thanks so much.
{{and more hugs!}} … and tissues! I hope you’re able to share this lovely post with your siblings.
I’m going to — and talk with them about how we can do better in our relationships with each other.
{{{{hugs}}}}}
Beautiful and my thoughts are with you.
Thank you. I appreciate it.
(((hugs)))
Oh, Jenner….I am 5 days away from the first anniversary of my dad’s sudden death….I have been keeping everything stuffed safely away too….but, darn it….you just made it all bubble up to the surface. I am sorry. Your parents would continue to be proud of the smart, fun, quirky person that you are!
I’m sorry to dredge that up for you … but I suspect it was coming anyway. These anniversaries have a way of getting you. Hugs to you.
No words Just hugs.
Right back at you. I know you know these feelings all too well.
Love the part about the film melting.
It seriously freaked me out. I had no idea what was happening … I may have even screamed. My dad was laughing so hard. That memory makes me smile every time.
Such a touching tribute.
Thank you for taking the time to read it.
Awe girl- so sorry. What an awesome honest post.
It felt cleansing to write it in a way … though I could barely see through my tears at some points.
Love the things that you said to your dad! It’s exactly what I’d say to mine. I miss our mutual love for books the most I think.
I know!! We always talked about what we were reading in every single conversation. It is due to him that I’m the reader I am today.
My gosh you’re good. What a wonderful, heartfelt post. Thinking of you today as you mark an important anniversary. Definitely work on the sibling thing!
I plan on reaching out to both my brothers. I talked to one the day before the anniversary; he was making his own plans for commemorating it. My other brother though is so distant — and not just geographically. I need to work on that.
I’m sending you a giant cyberhug, Jenners. It’ll be a year next month since my dad died. My heart still aches.
And it will continue to ache. I think it will never really go away. Hugs to you.
It’s evident you and your dad had a special relationship — how lucky you were:) HUGS
We did. It was easy and uncomplicated and we had fun. I do realize I was lucky to have a dad like that.
You really look a lot like him. Smile and all
Hugs.
Thanks! I hear that a lot. I hate that I got his eyebrows though! Keeping them tamed is no easy task.
So moving. What a beautiful tribute.
Thanks for taking the time to read it.
What a beautiful letter to your dad. It sounds like you had a wonderful relationship. I lost my dad, too, 13 years in December, and I still miss him and think about him all the time. About six months ago, I had a dream in which he told me something I’d been hoping to hear for awhile. It felt so real…I like to think it was him talking to me from the great beyond, but who knows?
I visit with both my parents in my dreams constantly. I love it but it can be sad too when you wake up. It does sometimes feel like it is a form of communication.
Beautiful letter to your dad!
Thanks. It felt cathartic to write it.
What a lovely post. I’m sure your dad (and mom) knew you loved them and cherished you. And I can see through your posts that you are passing that love to your son. It’s the best legacy.
I hope I’m passing that on to my son. You’re right … being loved and cherished by your parents is the single greatest gift you can get from a parent.
What a sweet tribute. It gets easier, but the pain never goes away. I know your parents are looking down on you with delight.
I know. It lessens as times goes on but some days, like the anniversary dates, it comes back with such a wallop.
Oh, Geez! I’m sitting here all teary eyed. I know it doesn’t bring your parents back, but you were so blessed to have such an amazing relationship. What I wouldn’t have given for that. My father and I had loads of time to say “good-bye” and there’s still that incompleteness in our relationship. You had completeness when it mattered. THAT will carry you forward. So beautifully written. Thanks for sharing this.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. It helps to think that maybe not having the chance to “say goodbye” wasn’t as critical as it sometimes feels to me. Thanks for that.
Such a touching letter to your dad. Tears in my eyes over here.
I usually do try to make people cry with laughter but sometimes you just have speak what is in your heart.
I am thinking of you today, and will be prying for you. Your letter left me speechless with it’s love and intensity, and I know that your Dad and Mom know just how you feel about them. I am hoping that your message comes through from them as well.
Thanks so much. I know they knew but I still just wish I could talk to them one last time. I do need to make peace with that — that it is the actions and all the others times you said it that matter.
Three years isn’t that long…you’ll find as time passes that the grief changes. It starts to feel less like an insurmountable, gaping chasm that you can’t get across, and instead, it resembles a hard chunk of rock inside you that you’re aware of, but you can manage – until a memory brings the loss back to the front of your mind. The grief becomes more wistful, and happier memories are easiest to recall.
Hug BB when you feel sad, and tell him something wonderful about your parents. Share the love you had with your parents with him and you may find that the longing you feel lessening.
I usually tell The Boy how much my dad would have loved him, had they had the opportunity to meet, and how good my mother was to him – like when she woke to find The Boy sleeping in her hallway, an empty maraschino cherry jar and cherry juice all over the kitchen floor, and she wasn’t even angry with him.
That is great advice — to help keep them alive by talking about them with BB. One of the things that does break my heart is that he is growing up without any grandparents and won’t have many memories of any of them (if at all).
Gaaah, you could melt stone!
I know you’re an easy crier … so sorry.
Such a wonderfully touching tribute, your love shines through in your every word.
That is so good to hear. Thanks!
Oh Jenners, what a lovely post. The grief never goes away. 14 years later and I still ache for my mom. Thinking of you today.
Whenever you share about your mom, it breaks my heart. I had my dad for so much longer but it still hurts so bad so I can only imagine how much you must ache for her.
Aw man, you made me cry. That is such a special way to remember your daddy. I love how you are allowing yourself to dwell today, and at the same time, your humor creeps in as well. (Did you ever think that maybe your dad had a hand in the whole mini-surfboard incident?) Well, whether he did or not, I’m pretty confident he is smiling down and feeling proud of the woman that he raised.
Oh I love that you said that about the mini surfboard incident! It is the exact kind of devilish thing that he would love and just laugh and laugh about.
Very touching letter to your father. I lost my won father recently and know that I will miss him more as time goes on.
I am so sorry for your loss. It is very painful and your grief will ebb and flow and change over time. Hugs to you.
There are no words to describe the sorrow I have reading your thoughts to your father, Jenners. Grief sneaks up on us, over and over again. We think it’s finished and then there it is. I’m so sorry. Big, big hugs.
You said it perfectly. It does sneak up on you over and over again. Probably forever. Thanks for your lovely and caring comment.