My father died two years ago today, and yet when something special happens to me, I talk to him secretly not really knowing whether he hears, but it makes me feel better to half believe it.
I'm going to try my damnedest today to focus on all the amazing things he was to me. I'm going to think about everything he gave me and taught me. I'm going to remember the feel of his hand in mine when I was just a little girl with pigtails. I'm going to focus on all the times he made me laugh, even if he wasn't trying. I'm going to remember the exuberant smile on his face when he held my boys for the first time. I'm going to briefly relive the feeling I felt when it was just me and him for that few moments before he walked me down the aisle. I'm going to let my head swim around in all the good memories I have of him. I'm going to picture his smile in my mind throughout the day. I'm really going to try hard to push the tears to the back of my eyes but I won't be surprised if one of them breaks the threshold.
I will force myself to recognize that he isn't in any pain anymore. I'm going to find the silver lining in the fact that he didn't suffer for too long, that he didn't waste away, that things could have been so much worse. Today I'm going to focus on the positive things regardless of the end result. My trying to be positive won't take away my underlying sadness, but I'm pretty certain he would dismiss my behaviour if I wallowed in it all day long. He'd tell me to remember the good times.
My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me. And if he didn't, he was a really good liar!