Today it's been a year. How is that even possible? One year and three days since I got to hear your voice call me "darlin" and put a hug around your neck while surrounded by family. One year since a man in a truck forgot to look both ways and drove out carelessly, tragically taking your life in a moment - a moment that came all too soon. We know today is probably very hard for the man too - know we pray for him and for his family today too. I can't believe that you could even unintentionally take someone else's life and not have today be forever marked on your heart. We pray he knows that we have forgiven him as hard as it is to be here today without you and for our hearts to hurt this much without you here.
Tomorrow morning it will be one year since I got a phone call that forever altered the way in which I view the world and live my life. In a few days it will be one year since the last time I saw you and said goodbye for the last time- you looked like you would just open your eyes and squeeze my hand but you were gone. One year since you chose to stay to celebrate my 30th birthday and one year since you wanted to cheer me on as I did the Ironman. I still hate that you weren't able to be there those days.
Tomorrow morning it will be one year since I got a phone call that forever altered the way in which I view the world and live my life. In a few days it will be one year since the last time I saw you and said goodbye for the last time- you looked like you would just open your eyes and squeeze my hand but you were gone. One year since you chose to stay to celebrate my 30th birthday and one year since you wanted to cheer me on as I did the Ironman. I still hate that you weren't able to be there those days.
This year has been really hard, Dad. I think in many ways you would have understood better than most. I wish you would have been here to talk to. Every day I miss you. Every day I think about how I wish you were here and all the things I wish we had done differently. So much has happened. All the "firsts" this year without you have been so different than just the years we weren't able to celebrate with you. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Father's day, birthdays, life milestones in general...everything is different. It just feels like something is missing.
I like to think you would have gotten a kick out of us moving to Denver. I know you would have been the one in our corner rooting us on to taken on another adventure (and already planning your next ski trip!).
I think more than most you would have really gotten so much joy about this surprise grand baby coming. You would have met your second grand baby next month. You were such a great Paw-Paw to Kennedy. My heart breaks that our baby won't know you like that. I know if you were here I would, characteristically, be annoyed with the phone calls or the check ins as I am with pretty much anyone that does that to me but deep down I would cherish it so much because it would be another reminder of your choice to be present in my life like you were in Emily's when she was having Kennedy. I know how much you loved being a grandparent - I wish you would be able to hold this one too. I know people say you "are still here" or "you're looking down from heaven" or "you know" but none of those things makes me feel any better. I know people say that because they have nothing better to say but I wish people would stop saying things like that. In so many ways it just makes faking "being ok" so much harder. You're still gone...too soon.
A few times I have had dreams where you are here or that Jesus gives me just a glimpse or moment with you. They are so real I wake up not being able to breathe. I still feel like I can smell your cologne or feel how hard you hugged when I wake up. It's truly one of the most blessedly haunting experiences of my life. A few other times, when we are at church singing praise and worship, I feel like I catch just a glimpse of you singing and praising with me. It never fails to catch my breath and I just close my eyes and for a moment - for just that moment we get to worship the Lord together. We never really got to do that together when you were here. I wish we had. I know I sound crazy but in so many ways I just need to feel like you are still present sometimes. So many things were left unsaid and undone and unfinished.
I look back on where I was a year ago when I originally wrote about your accident . While some days are certainly easier than others and today is certainly less painful than it was a year ago- I can't say it's gotten better overall. I have never grieved something like this. There were so many moments in our relationship that were cause for grief and so many redemptive moments towards the end of your life that were cause for so much joy. I still don't know how to grieve this. How to wrap my head around how tragically and suddenly you died and how to live every day with that loss. One thing I can say is your death has made me love harder, let go easier and hold so much more loosely to the things of this world. It can all be gone in an instant no matter where you are in life. I would be lying if I didn't say your death made me fear loss and the fragility of life too. I wish I could say that I had overcome this crushing anxiety and developed apathy about the fleeting nature of life and the lack of tomorrow's guarantee. I know that's not how you would have wanted me to live. Some days are easier than others. Don't worry - I'm not giving up.
We all got together and spread your ashes at the ranch the weekend of the hunt. We know how much you loved that place. This picture was taken the last time you were there. Your ashes are spread just to the right of where you are walking and waving goodbye. The creek was running for the first time in years, it was so quiet and we sat where you had built a cross out of a tree just in the middle of the creek. It was a beautiful moment to say goodbye to you with your family all around. You are so loved.
Thank you for so many amazing memories. While we grieve the times and moments that we will miss with you we celebrate the memories we do have. We are going to be ok. I know you know that. Today hurts. So much. But tomorrow will come and we will keep going. We will continue to celebrate the redemption in your life and the testimony and love you shared especially in the last years of your life. In every beautiful sunset, pink streaked sunrise, big mooned night, deer hunt, mardi gras moment, barbecued ribs and silly "dad jokes," we are reminded of you and smile. In my memory, you will always be that silly, sweet, complex, brilliant, big hearted man that showed us the redeeming love and work of Christ.
We are sending big hugs around your neck today.
We are holding tight to God's promise that he is near to the broken
hearted and that joy comes in the morning.
We love you dad. We miss you - all the time.
Vaya Con Dios.
Love always,
Hannah
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