Letter to My Dad on the 5th Anniversary of his Death

When I think of the time that separates me from you, part of me still struggles to believe it’s real. Somehow step by step, day by day, I’ve continued on without you for five years. Five years. Half a decade. The world has been devoid of you for that long, and on days like today, I struggle to see how it keeps spinning without you. Lately, I’ve been looking at pictures of you and wishing I could fall back through time into the moment they depict. Just fall through time and be gone. I guess, with all that’s been going on, nothing about that is surprising. I’m still struggling with the feeling that I don’t want to do this without you. I feel like others expect me to have gotten past that now. Five years is a long time. I should be used to having to face the world without you, but I’m not. A song lyric comes to mind: “What’s left is only bittersweet / For the rest of my life / Admitting the best is behind me.” I identify with that so much it’s not funny. The singer is talking about the death of his mother, and the first time I heard that lyric, I had such a deep sense of relief and comfort to know that there is at least one other person on this planet that understands what I feel. I suppose it’s a sad line, but I don’t feel sad when I hear it. It makes me contemplate how to carve out a good and happy life when I know that everything will be tinged with sadness. Your legacy is so large, and it is such a privilege to be one of its heirs. I thank God every day for bestowing on me the honor of having been your daughter. Everyone has a father, but most didn’t get you. From the moment I wake to the time I fall asleep (and even in my dreams), it is on my mind how to live in such a way to make you proud. I don’t always succeed, but I always try. I’m still trying to rearrange the pieces of myself in the wake of the devastation your loss left behind. You were such a large part of what made me who I am that parts of me are gone forever. I’m still sorting through and figuring out what can be salvaged. It’s been a difficult five years. Our family has had a lot of anguish. I understand now in ways I wish I didn’t how people become bitter and hard. Life can take your smile away. It’s been trying to take mine in so many different ways since you died. It’s a battle I continue to fight. I’m generally fairly happy, but my smiles are more hard-won now. I still hold fervently to the belief that kindness is one of the greatest things. That is a lesson you taught me every day. There’s so much I miss that I can’t think about it too much or I get lost in it. I miss your joy. I have happiness in my life, but no one is you. I miss the introspective sadness you had and let so few see.  I miss your patience with me and the genuine affection you had for me. You made me feel like I was enough, and I feel despair at the thought of having to find that feeling on my own. I miss road trips where we talk for hours about everything and nothing. I miss who I got to be when you were around. I miss… well, what don’t I miss? I’ve always been verbose in my writing, and this letter is no exception. I’ve typed hundreds of words when I could have typed just three and said the same: I miss you. I miss you: three tiny words filled with vast worlds of emotion and memory. I miss you, Daddy.