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the big guy has a birthday tomorrow

its like clockwork...grief, i mean. you find yourself experiencing times where the heaviness of what you have lost doesnt seem to be the focus of your thoughts. other times you find tears are a mere word, though, memory or pictre away. grief is a funny thing. it cant be cured, and it cant be stopped. if i am being optimistic, i might even go so far as to say grief represents just how great something once was in your life that you just cant imagine life without it.

that was dad. i know he is all around me, and sending me signs when he can. i just dont get it tho...death. what?! in the same sense that its SO easy to gain weight, its SO easy to just die. poof. over.

id like to think he'll be up there munching on some cake and dancing all around the room. though he was a bit on the shyer side, he could definitely shake it! especially when provoked :) haha, youre welcome dad. id personally request "our" songs (we had a handful) and just laugh until i keeled over.

58. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD! i know im a few hours early, but your birthday deserves the exctra time.
my dad would have looked great at 68. 78. 88. 98. he totally could have made it to 98. i bet he would have still had a 6-pack..and been tan and agile. and probably still working. crazy he was :)

this week has been mentally tough in regards to my dads birthday. its amazing what living in the most magical city, with the most magical friends can do to a girl. while i have my days of blahs, where i just cant find the point in what happened no matter how hard i try, more often than not, im ok. i want my dad to be proud, and i have a lot to live for, so i ultimately am not going to sit at home and wallow in the depths of dispair. hed cringe if he knew i was sad.

my dad's smile could light up a room. my dad could break down all my girly annoyances and make me feel beautiful. he ran with me. he actually thought i was a pretty cool person. he listened to the backstreet boys in the car with me. we balanced it out with metallica, the foo fighters and coldplay, but he still let me have my silly girl music. and boys? he was a saint. he loved meeting boyfriends...(probably wanted to secretly have them killed), but he was so cool with all of them. he visited me throughout college. he believed in me...even when i didnt feel he had a reason to. he never once complained in front of me how hard he had to work, how tired he was, or how sick he felt. he never complained out loud about fat days, annoying people or stupid, trivial shit. we gosspied in our own world, but he never let me feel like the world was a big, scary, tough place. i joked with him about girl problems, makeup and falling in love (it happened a lot). haha. he was there when i had a pregnancy scare at 13 (you dont want to know. but its cool, ali had one too). WE ARE WEIRD. he was there for all the bruises, scars and soccer games. he was there as a friend, a dad, a coach and a superhero.

if you are still reading this, whoa. congrats. basically, writing is my therapy. i work through thoughts, and feelings that my  head is full of. i come to know this: while i may not be able to talk to or touch my dad, he is with me always. i am so much a part of him...i feel it, i know it, im told it.

so there ya have it folks. life is a day-by-day journey of ups and downs. its good, its bad, its happy and its sad. but its 100% worth it, 100% of the time. and if you ever think otherwise, spend a day with ali and i...we will make you happier than you thought possible :) oh, i guess some credit is due to prosecco. and chocolate. and boys. and sugar. and birthdays. and boys. get it.


Anonymous said…
Gotta keep up your "writing therapy" it does the soul good. Glad you are more able to talk (or write) about your seems as you have been growing in leaps and bounds this past year (emotionally I mean) Drew is quite proud of how independent you are!

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