Remebering My Dad (6/14/48 - 4/23/07)

My brain is mush today for many reasons - it's been a long, busy week. And today is not my favorite day in the world. Today is the 2nd anniversary of my father passing way. My dad died on April 23, 2007 at the young age of 58 after fighting Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) for 7 years.

My Sister Melanie and Dad on her Wedding Day (my dad was 51 here) - December 31, 1999.

My Nephew Matthew & Dad - Christmas Eve 2005 (He was so proud of his first grandbaby)

The following is something I wrote on my blog last year. My feelings are still pretty much the same. I don't feel as angry as I did last year, but I still feel guilty and I miss him terribly! As long as we remember those we have loved and lost...they are never truly gone...they live on in those of us that remember them. A year ago, today, my father passed away. I don't talk about it much with other people, somewhat because I feel that it makes other people feel uncomfortable (no one knows what to say), and partly because I don't like being emotional in front of other people. My mom, sisters and I talk about him, and our memories of him quite often. It's not easy and it's still very upsetting, but we decided a long time ago that not talking about him, would be more upsetting. I really thought that I would get through today, much like I have gotten through the last year, but I couldn't. It was just overwhelming today. I can't help but experience all of the same emotions that I did last April 23rd. I feel extreme sadness. I feel dread and anxiety; that the whole situtation is unfair. I feel a level of anger I have never before experienced. I'm angry because it's not fair. I'm angry because my father was only 58 when he died. I'm angry because my children and my sister's children will never get to know their "PawPaw". I'm angry because he was one of the "good ones" and God took him and God left to many shitty ones with us. And I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I'm alive and he isn't. I feel guilty that I just married the love of my life, and my mother lost hers. I feel guilty for being mad about the fact that my husband and my friends still have both of their parents and I don't. I know that he is in a better place. I know that he doesn't struggle everyday to breathe, like he did when he was with us. I know that he doesn't feel bad, or dread, or scared like he did when he was with us. I know that God is taking care of him and that he is with all the people he loved that went before him. I know all of these things. I don't need to be reminded of them. I don't need them to be explained to me. I know all of these things and still feel angry and guilty and I suppose that is just the way that it will be for awhile. That for awhile, everytime I think of him, I will gradually become less angry and more accepting. That God will strengthen me and my anger will subside. Until then, I will pray (and I could use all the prayers you can muster up)!