I thought I had a good 15-20 years left of having Dad in my life before having to consider and accept that yes, he can’t live forever. I’d be older then and more mature (lol) and would be able to spend more time with Dad.
That’s the kicker.
Because we don’t get to control it. We can only be thankful for how much we had of it when we were right there in it.
Times Dad and I laughed over shared humour, times we made each other cry. Times we shouted, strategically hurt each other and times we took a deep breath and forgave. Times where we were each other’s best friend and strongest advocate, times we smiled at each other as we ate a pie…times I will cherish for my life…or whatever is left of it.
When you lose a parent, I don’t know about you…but I’m constantly looking BACK. Could I have saved my Dad? Did I do enough while he was still alive to tell and show him that I loved him? No.
I would have told Dad 100 times every day that I loved him. I would have rolled my eyes less. I would have brought a small notebook and kept all of Dad’s “Dad Facts” recorded so that on days like this…I could read over them and smile as I remember Dad telling them to me.
My Dad was the only Dad I knew. He was my Step Father, yes…but he was…and will always be DAD in every sense that matters.
I wish I had more time with you, Dad.
Oh to have just one more day.
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