On Monday July 21st 2014 my family and I commemorated the one year passing of my father, poppy, daddy, Ed.
As I took the week off from work, I came home from the cottage to meet my family at the cemetery where my brother, sister-in-law, nephew, both nieces and my mom met to release yellow helium balloons, each telling what we missed about the man who united us and kept us strong. Why yellow you might ask? Yellow means hope and regardless, we still all have hope for our own futures. Their stories are theirs to tell, but I will confess my story here – it was short and sweet, like me – as my dad would say.
In 365 days, days that went to fast, yet not fast enough I have accomplished so much because of my father. I got a dog whom I adore, who makes me laugh and pull my hair out on a regular basis and I love him. I bought a home that resembles my childhood home yet is all mine and has enough differences to not make it a replica. I went in on a cottage with my friend where I can spend cool summer nights around the campfire imagining my father shaking his head at my craziness – I mean really, I am not a “country” girl, why would I need my own cottage?! And finally I survived with half a heart. These last four years I have lost my best friend, my grandmother and my father – all three of whom gave me purpose and helped keep me grounded and with the loss of those three – physically (or mentally in my ex’s case), I am no longer living with a full heart. Each day I wake with an ache that will never disappear.
My father was a responsible man, a loving man who wanted the best for his children so he saved his money and made smart investments so my brother and I were left with inheritances that have allowed us to build, create and fulfill some of our dreams.
At the end of the day I’d live with my father forever if it meant having him back, being able to tell him I love him just one more time – but that wasn’t the plan. It never is. So I’ve had to say goodbye and work on making him proud. I know he would be. He’d love my house…if he were alive it would have been the house he picked out for me. Simba would have driven him nuts but at the end of the day, he would have smiled knowing how happy Simba has made me. As far as the cottage is concerned – well he probably couldn’t have cared less about it because he is a city boy and a cottage was never his idea of fun, but he would have been happy that I am happy – that’s all he wanted.
My family and I finished the night off at the Keg – my dads favourite restaurant, where we feasted on good food and a night of jokes that allowed the evening to be much brighter than the tears and sadness the cemetery had brought.
Dad, I miss you. We all do. You were taken to soon and of course much to quick. Sometimes I wonder how I will get through the day without you, I pick up the phone all the time about to dial your number before realizing no one is there to answer it. My heart breaks for my unborn children who will never meet you or be held in your arms. My nieces and nephew are so lucky to have had a relationship with you – especially Ryann, she misses you every day – your loss is evident on her entire soul and a part of her has suffered more than any of us. Please continue to shine down on us and fill us with your light, because dad, some days seem really dark