Butterfly Kisses

Dear Dad,

Guess what! I’m engaged!

The past few days have been filled with euphoria and excitement for my future with Nic, but it has also magnified the absence of you.

I wish so much that you could’ve been there. You were the one missing piece of an otherwise perfect proposal. Nic picked out the most beautiful setting and band to compliment the diamond you gave to mom.

In true Rick fashion, I could tell it was coming, I found some clues leading me to believe a ring might be under the tree. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise so I kept it (mostly) to myself. Nic did however, figure out I knew something. But he still caught me off guard by proposing at the beginning of the gift exchange at Kelli & Jim’s Christmas Eve party. Mom and Erik were right next to me and they were just as surprised as I was. (He told them he was proposing Christmas Day). Hannah even Facetimed Grandma and Aunt Dianna so they could be included, too.

Although I can’t imagine anything better than spending the rest of my life with Nic, I’ve somewhat dreaded a proposal because it would mean I had to plan the be there. The thought of you not walking me down the aisle or dancing to Butterfly Kisses with me just breaks my heart all over again.

In therapy, I’ve talked through what my wedding might look like without you physically there. I have a few perfect ways to incorporate you and your spirit in our dig day but it’s still going to be painful.

Rebecca Pearson put it best when she said “The happiest moments will also be a little sad”.

Love you infinitely, forever your little girl

6 Months

 

It’s been 6 months since you took your last breath.

We spent your birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years day without you.  In the next 6 months we will spend Valentines Day, Easter, Memorial Day, Mother’s day and Father’s day, the 4th of July, Erik’s 21st birthday, Annika’s 23rd birthday and my 54th birthday without you.  I will spend the 26th Anniversary of our wedding day without you.

You were not here to see Erik start in a Division 1 collegiate football game.  (He did great!)  You were not here to see Annika’s new home.  (It is SO cute!) You were not here to meet our precious grandpup Pumpkin.  (I call her Calabaza.)  You were not here to toast the Craig’s in their new home with the Besties.  (We toasted you.) In the next 6 months you will not be here for Cubs opening day.  (And we can walk!)  You will not be here for my first cocktail party in Chicago.  (Actually, you would not be thrilled that it is black tie optional.)

In another 6 months we will hit the one year mark and we will start over again.  Another holiday, another birthday, another big event without you.  I doubt it will get any easier.  We will celebrate marriages and babies without you.  (No pressure Annika and Erik).  We will vacation in Hawaii…and take your ashes.  It’s about time you get to fly free after so many vacations there.  I will retire, without you.

Yet, you are here.  You are ingrained on our hearts and your wonderful spirit is alive, leaving signs to let us know you are not far.   Like speaking to us through a medium, and the hawks in our yard, and the receipt in my laundry basket.  Like playing this song when we celebrated Erik’s game and when he and Alice went to the Bristol Tap on your birthday and when Annika and I were returning from Spain.

Of course we want you to be physically here with us and that is what we grieve.  Your physical absence is a reality we don’t want to accept.  We want to see the joy on your face and we want to hear your incredible laugh.  I want you to hold me in your arms and tell me I’m going to be happy again.

Like the day we married and the day our children were born and the Christmas mornings when the kids opened their gifts from Santa with such delight.  Like the day Annika graduated from college and the day Erik signed to play college football.  Like the time we spent in San Francisco with our Besties.  Like the times we vacationed in Hawaii.  (Except the trip where Erik bailed on us.)  These are just a few of the memories we hold dear.  And although we do not need pictures to remind us of these good times, we cherish the pictures we have and find comfort in looking at them over and over and over again.

It’s been 6 months since you were here.