bare

today i did something i don't remember ever doing in the last 10 years you've been gone.

i started a letter to you.

it felt foolish.

i started to cry.

so i quit.

but.

but it kinda felt good to get some things out.

to tell you that i miss you and hate that you're gone. to tell you i'm frustrated everyone else knew you so much better. everyone else had so much time with you while i had so little. everyone else had years listening to your laughter.

oh, how i miss your laughter.

and your hands. i remember them. i miss them.

i hate the not knowing. heaven? hell? i tell myself heaven. only Jesus knew your heart.

so, after my girls were born i asked if He'd open up heaven, if only for a minute, so you could see them. so you could see how beautiful they are.

alison has the dip in her chin that you had. that i have. i love it.

josh took jaylee to a father/daughter ball a few months back. we didn't ever get one of those. not like either of us would have wanted to go. but still.

you never tucked me in.

you didn't teach me to ride a bike.

you never brushed my hair or put it in a ponytail.

i see all these things that josh does with our girls that i missed. not only because you died too soon but because you and i just didn't know each other.

i feel so cheated.

and while i'm laying it out there, tonight i told God that i was mad. He could have let you live, yet chose not to. i'm sure that sounds so childish. but i'm hurt.

still.

soon you'll have been gone longer from my life longer than i'll have known you.

i got mad at you once after you died. wondering how you, a 40 year old healthy man could drown. i mean, seriously, how could you drown? you were so strong. so capable. indestructible. and then you were gone.

thank you for the carnations on valentine's day. for the teddy bears. the cards. for being thoughtful.

i don't like carnations, though.

but i definitely don't like that you don't send them anymore. i mean, i'd much rather you send me flowers i don't like than be gone and not send them at all.

i joke about you drowning. a lot. it doesn't make me feel better but it somehow helps me deal. at least on the outside.

i thought getting a tattoo would help me heal, too. i was wrong about that one.

used to creep me out that you'd pick spiders up in the house and move them outdoors. or worse, just leave them in your house. to live. ew.

our house is torn apart right now. i know you'd be over helping us work on it every night. as long as i stocked my fridge with coors light. ew.

it's time for bed. thankful for josh that he'll hold me while i cry myself to sleep tonight.

once again, regretting never calling you, "dad" and wishing i could. just once.

just once.