It's been a year
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It been a year. And while everyone around me says this year has gone by fast. I've been dreading today; dreading remembering the feeling of you leaving.
Remembering how you looked coming in on the gurney with someone doing CPR.
How your feet looked while they did those compression.
The sound of you arm being slapped while they tried to find a vein; how black your blood was.
Remember them reminding everyone that there is family in the room, then the doctor told me there was nothing else left they could do and asked if they could call TOD.
It's was 10:56 am.
I was at work.
I remember the dread I felt hearing them call the code blue twenty minutes out knowing that when you'd come in they'd be trying but my dad would be dead.
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It's been a year.
And in that year I've achieved some cool things I wish you were here for.
I started working in the radiology department; and everyone there is super cool and nice-our director reminds me of you sometimes. But I've never told him or anyone that.
I'm pregnant with my third; and it's finally a boy! We are naming him after his dad. Even though I'm secretly hoping he looks like you with curls and blue eyes.
My oldest graduated Headstart; your mom showed up and cried like she always does. But I was crying too, you would have laughed at me and told me it only gets harder from here.
My second kid starts Headstart this year; I cried again; you would have laughed at me and again said it gets harder from here.
I bought the oldest school shirts for her new school and cried because she's growing up; I can hear you laughing and telling me they only get bigger from here.
I talked about you with your mom and aunt; They told me I'm more like you than I think. And it's not a bad thing being your father's prettiest son. And they cried; I didn't cry until I got home that night and was alone.
I cried a lot this last year.
I cried a lot the week you passed. I cried a lot planning your funeral.
When I found out I was having a boy.
When my coworker asked if I ever feel bitter about not having a dad anymore; I mean I do- you just sit on mom's shelf.
I'm crying as I type this actually.
Mom's okay; I can tell she's sad somedays and other days she's fine. She's been getting out of the house more, doing more things she wouldn't usually do-and that's good that makes me happy. I just wish you would have been here for some of these things.
Because I miss my dad.
Because I think I'll always miss you.
Even after a year.
Even after two years.
I'll miss you for the rest of my life.
