Little Girl Lost

Dear Dad;

Two days ago, it was the 10^th anniversary of your death.

How have ten years gone by in the blink of an eye?

Adam was only 2 and Alec 6 when you left us.

And now, they've grown into smart, handsome, funny, charismatic young men of 12 and 16.

And you've missed so much.

You missed Adam starting school.

You missed Alec having his first girlfriend.

You missed Adam sooo excited and looking SO cute, because he was going to his first pre-teen dance.

You're going to miss Alec getting his license soon, and he graduates in a couple of years.

And I know, without a doubt, you would have thrown him the BIGGEST grad party!

You would have been so proud of your grandsons when it comes to sports!

Alec has become an awesome basketball player!

Adam likes and plays it too, but his true talent is gymnastics.

You've missed so many playoff games, where I KNOW you and mom would have made the drive to Halifax, to be sitting in the stands, cheering them on, with me.

Alec wants to play professional basketball and hopes to get a scholarship to play someday.

Adam may still be a long way from deciding his future plans, but he's still adamant he'll be a police/FBI officer.

I think you would have supported any of their hopes and dreams and would have done what you could to help them achieve them.

You've missed the fun stuff, like taking them to parks, water-slides, movies, mini golf, ball fields and so many more activities I KNOW you would have enjoyed with them.

OK, maybe not the ziplining.

But, I've taken them skiing the past couple of years.  I think you would have enjoyed that.
 

Every summer, I try to make sure to make time to throw the ball in the backyard with them.

For you.

And you've missed the serious stuff.

Before I made ANY major decision in my life, I ALWAYS called you (and mom) first.

I had to run it by you, to see what you thought. I may not always have agreed with what you told me, but I always respected and needed your opinion.

You weren't there for the biggest decision of my life. And for that, I was SO angry.

I needed my dad to tell me if I was making the right decision, when I decided it was time for a divorce.

You weren't here to talk to.

I did go home, and talk to mom, but it wasn't YOUR input.

It wasn't my daddy's advice, and I needed that.

I made one of the hardest and biggest decisions of my life, without your words of wisdom ... on my own.

And here we are, ten years later, and I STILL reach for the phone sometimes, forgetting you're not there, to give me the advice I so desperately need.

Or to give me that hug, and pick me back up, when I screw up, or feel the fists of life, beating me down.

You're not there to tell me things will be OK.

I can't call you when I need help fixing things I can't fix.

This is the second summer I don't have a clothesline, since it broke.

I know it would have been one of the first things you would have fixed on your next visit.

Along with whatever else I had on my list.

But you would have been proud of me! I've handled flooding basements, I tackled fixing my dryer, and handled having my water tank decide to up and die all over the basement floor.

I had to deal with Adam being hospitalized, and Alec suffering a serious concussion, that whole double-lung surgery thing I had right after you died, and many of life's other curve balls, all on my own.

But I did it.

Because I knew you were there. Looking over my shoulder. Making sure things would be OK.

That's what gets me through the day all these years later.

Knowing you're my angel, always on my shoulder.

I knew it when that log fell off the logging truck in front of us, on that slippery, snowy, windy road in New Brunswick, and we came out OK.

I knew it when the boys and I hit a deer. Twice. And all came out OK.

I knew it when I hydroplaned on that wet road a couple of years ago, and should, really SHOULD have ended up into and flipping over that concrete barrier, but didn't.

I know it EVERY time we have a near miss. You're there. Protecting us.

As you always did, when you were here with us.

Mom and I are taking care of each other.

She always was, but has become even moreso, my best friend.

I know she misses you too.  Alot.

Especially with Nanny being so sick lately.  I KNOW she could really use your support through this.

Do you know, whenever Nanny sees Mom now, she looks at her and says your name.

And what a good man you were.

I think you're there with Nanny, in the hospital where she is now.  I think you're watching over her and I know she feels you.

She's not quite ready to leave us yet, but I know when she does, it will be YOUR hand, along with Grandads reaching out to take hers when she gets there.

I'm finding my way through life without you, Dad.

Some days though, it's really tough.

I may be a 40yr old woman, but sometimes, without you, I'm just a little girl lost.

However … that's not what the world sees.

You made me strong.

You and mom made me the person I am, and I like to think that's a good one.

Someone who WON'T back down from ANY challenge (unless it involves a spider of course).

Someone who CAN handle anything that life decides to throw at me.

Including raising these two boys, on my own, and having them turn into the good men I know you'd want them to be.

The world sees the strong, confident, intelligent, won't take shit, woman that you made me.

Never the little girl lost.

And for that, I hope you'd be proud.

It hasn't been easy all these years.

I miss you.

I miss your advice, I miss your humour, I miss your no-nonsense, I miss watching you and mom together.

I miss the house I grew up in.  Home isn't home anymore. 

I miss seeing you play with the boys.

I miss you introducing me as your favourite daughter, even though everyone knew I was your ONLY child.

I miss SO MANY things, but mostly, I miss your love. 

It seems like just yesterday I left you at the house that last time.

I think we both knew, it WAS the last time I'd be able to tell you everything I needed you to know.

I'm glad I got that, at least.

I'm glad I was with you in those last moments at the hospital, holding your hand.

I'm glad you opened your eyes, and looked at Mom one last time before you left us.

And I'm glad I have so many wonderful memories you and mom made for me.

I hold them close.

They're all I have now.  Since, I'll never again, have you.

Miss you, Dad.

Every.  Single.  Day.

Love always,

Your favourite daughter.  xox