What a bond to break

A year ago today I lost someone I've never known life with out.
A year ago today, I couldn't fathom getting through a single day with the pain I carried in my heart.

Today just so happens to be the most beautiful day of 2010. My father never wasted a day of sunshine, and I must carry on that piece of him.

Grieving and celebrating someone's life is quite a rollercoaster. Yesterday was on the downward slope, and today seems to be the part you can coast through and enjoy the view, catch your breath, and realize that you've survived in spite of your self doubts and the scariest highs and lows you've ever imagined.

It's the true acceptance of all those moments of the year that I wished I could have shared with him, but he's not coming back.
I'll never see him again.

My phone will never display his name on my caller ID.
I'll never get another birthday card, or directions.
He'll never change my oil again.
We'll never have another boat day, or go camping in Virginia.
We'll never take the dogs to the park.
I'll never be crushed in his hug or get a kiss on the forehead.
He won't appear for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
He won't call me with all the weekly specials at the grocery store.
I can't call him when I find a new job with benefits.
We'll never have another dinner together.
I'll never watch The Simpsons on Sunday.

Yet, here I am, and he will never be again.
That comfort in believing it gets easier in time has never really been much more than a lame pat on the back to me.

I choose to believe that I am, very much, my father's daughter. The life he wished he could've enjoyed to it's fullest is now left to me to lead, and know that he is alive through it. Even through losing him, he is still teaching me more about this crazy journey.

As much as I wish I could get his wise-old advice, he promised me he'd keep an eye on me. . . so I know I'll be ok.

Every Step I take, every move I make