And so begins year three of being a fatherless daughter. It was in this very hour two years ago that I sat, alone, in my bedroom wrapped in my Daddy's cardigan while my mother, sisters and brother were bedside with Dad as he took his final breaths after having his ventilator removed. On January 5th, 2021, a chasmic hole ripped into my being and I know that missing my father will never end. It's impossible. How could one NOT miss the intuition, the hugs, the constant familial pull he carried over all of us? Or his belly laugh and the way he could tell you all you needed to know about his feelings in the moment by looking in his eyes? One never stops cherishing these blessings. I woke today feeling different than I did last year. Last year, I was still in a grief fog, saddened by a full year without Dad in my physical life. Today? I woke today humming some of his favorite songs - or, if not his favorite, songs that when I hear them, I think of Dad, first and foremost: Lady in Re...
I've always considered myself a strong swimmer - strong enough. I'm never going to win any meets, take home any medals and I certainly won't look elegant while attempting any strokes, but I'm going to stay afloat. I'm more of a fresh water girl - lakes, rivers, streams and, if I must, a pool are my preferred swimming holes. That said, I certainly enjoy the beach, too. However, especially with the beaches I've frequented on the Atlantic, I learned at an early age to respect the ocean water - getting caught up in a riptide or two will teach you some lessons. The first time I tangled with a riptide, I didn't realize it in the moment. I just remember Mom frantically screaming at me to get back to shore. I didn't understand why she was angry <she wasn't angry - she was freaking out - her kid was sliding out to sea, but didn't realize it>. It took some time and it seemed like I finally washed up miles away <I'm sure it wasn't "mi...