For Daddy

Grief can be sneaky. Most days you walk with it, making adjustments here and there, eventually discovering a kind of rhythm after the initial shock. And then there are the times it slashes the skies anew, leaving you just as bereft as that first knowledge of loss. 

Never did I think I’d be here - in this spot in life - without my dad. 

I don’t want to glorify things…Dad struggled for so long, and mostly the losses topped the victories. In the harshest phases of his addiction, it was one step forward, two steps back - like a playground see-saw banging out of balance. 

But it always somehow felt like we were one action away from ‘success’ even though our family had no idea what that looked like long term. 

Ultimately, I lost my dad in inches. And I didn’t even know it was happening.

There were many days (even months) I didn’t speak to daddy at all. A boundary of my own making - protecting my mental health, my little family, and the thousands of good childhood memories I was desperate to save.

The dad who proudly lifted me on his shoulders after my first time walking in a fashion show at age 3. The one who took me sledding in a park and sang old cowboy songs while running errands. The one who taught me how to mow a lawn, drive a stick shift, and shoot a gun. The one who gifted me my first piece of jewelry and helped me choose a pair of cowboy boots. The one who would leave $20 on my dresser when I was in high school, calling it ‘purse money.’ The man who passed his love of family into my DNA.

After a significant hospitalization following a fall late September 2018, it seemed the darkest times were past. I really felt he was truly coming back to us. And that our fractured family might have a shot at cohesion again. A real chance to heal.

Dad and I chatted on the phone every day for nearly two months - sometimes more than once a day. I loved those calls and the way he spoke my name - ”Hey Jules,” he’d say, ‘What are you up to today?” A simple and perfect hello. 

But...we lost touch again. At the end of November 2018 I was packing up my life to move across country - back home to CA - and our calls became less frequent, often replaced by a voicemail message or quick text. 

I’m still struggling to forgive myself for those inactions. I thought he was better - and that I would have time on the other side of our move to renew that closeness. 

I didn’t. And I still wonder if what I know now would have changed things.  

Officially, on December 18th 2018, he left earth for good. Personally, I believe he left us late on the 17th…and was called home to heaven. I think God decided ‘enough was enough’ and welcomed dad with open arms - knowing his heart.

The rest of us are all still picking up the pieces.