Dear Daddy –

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year already. If they say time flies when you’re having fun, what happens when you’re not and you’re missing a piece of your heart? It’s been a crazy, crazy year and it’s been hard knowing I can’t just pick up the phone and call on my ride home to hear you say “My daughter, what’s up kid?”

I miss you. That doesn’t even truly sum it up but it’s the three words that come to mind from the get go. I want to say it’s so fucking hard with out but I know the alternative of having your here would be all the more difficult and incredibly selfish.

You’ve never been a huge man of faith. Yes, I know you were once an alter boy Dad, but it was just for a few hours, so simmer down Dad (lol). Faith and belief in God’s divine intervening take a little more than 3 hours of doing his work, but you were somewhat of believer, I know that. I know you weren’t ready to leave us but I also know that God had a plan and His plan is always best. The treatments would have been harder than losing you so suddenly would have been so a part of me is so thankful for His mercy.

But I miss you Daddy.

I was thinking last night about how when we move on to our next life there’s no pain or sickness. It’s comforting to know that those last days with you were the last days of your pain and suffering. I’m angry that you’re gone but thankful in so many ways that the discomfort and anguish is no longer part of you. I laughed at wondering if you still had your stutter though. Sorry. I know, that’s not nice, but I miss your stutter Dad. I miss the words “Hey Jennifer, lemme ask you a question.” I’d give anything to hear that question again and hate that it irritated me so much when you were here.

Life has taught me a lot in the last 365 days Daddy. Cherish the moments. Those days when I was there helping to care for you were some of the best days of my life. Laying with you, snuggled, like when I was a little girl. You were my hero then just like you were all the years before. You weren’t a perfect man, but in my eyes you were. You were my first love, my Daddy and you still are.

There’s so many things that I think about that make me proud to be your daughter.

• No matter how many stupid things I did, you never questioned it.

• When you picked me up from Geri’s house at 11pm knowing I was going home to a lifelong punishment for sneaking out, you never lectured me.

• When my car wouldn’t start on a dark deserted road in Brentwood, you never asked why I was even there.

• When I somehow got 4 blown out tires while driving down Southern State Parkway, you never asked what the hell I was doing driving like maniac that got me 4 blown tires.

You never asked. You just knew it was all part of growing up. Part of life’s lessons. Or, you were just afraid of the answers and having to face the conversation that would ensue. But you just let me find my place in the world and grow from each experience.

You taught me how to mow the lawn.
You taught me at an older age to ride a bike.
You taught me how to change the oil in my car.
You taught me how to change a flat tire.
You showed me love for baseball.
And the Yankees.
You taught me about tools.
You taught me hard work.
You taught me life.

You followed me 998 miles south to Florida in 1991 when I got the bright idea to leave NY for the sunshine state and never shed a tear one week later when having to leave your little girl in a new place so far away. In the years to follow, you accepted every collect call that came in.

You never let me know how disappointed you were that I was pregnant and not yet married. You were just too thrilled to be a grandfather and never wanted me to feel less of the situation.

In the three weeks prior to your passing we had some of the best conversations we ever had in life and I’ll never forget those Dad. We shared confessions, memories and truths. It was healing for me and I hope it was for you too.

But I still miss you.

I can feel you with me often. People say that red cardinals are a sign from someone in heaven. Sometimes I feel you in a dog. You hated dogs until much later in life. Other days it’s in a squirrel. Sometimes in my window at work a squirrel will just sit on the ledge and look in at me and I swear it’s your eyes. Why would you choose a squirrel though? I have no idea. But I like to believe it is you just watching me with pride and those sympathetic eyes.

I love you Daddy. I love you and I miss you so much. I’m so thankful that not too many years ago, after all the years of you teaching me, I was able to teach you the importance of telling people you love them. Without that moment and those words, life would be so different for me now. So thank you for laying down your past of not sharing your feelings, to spare mine.

I miss you every day and love you more today than yesterday and more than I will tomorrow.

Rest easy til we meet again. I’ll see you when I get there.

Your little girl,
Jennifer