I didn't know it would be today

I miss my dad tonight. A few minutes ago, I sat outside on the front steps and spoke to him. I'd give the world if I had it, to hear him speak back. You never really quite know what to say to a loved one when they are dying. You focus so much energy on being there, in their presence, making sure they are okay. Your brain goes into this hole that shows no light. There is no way out because you know what the future for this loved one holds.

When this happens, you lose your ability to think clearly and concisely. You forget the important stuff. The questions you wanted to ask. The advice you will need for later. The memories spoken just once more.

Eventually, you accept it. You do this because you have to, there is no choice in it. Accepting it isn't the same as being okay with it though. It doesn't mean you understand. You have moments throughout your life that you are automatically going to go to that place your loved one once was. The place your routine is used to. Days, weeks, years. It doesn't matter how much time has passed. Your mind will always go to them.

Its in these instances that your heart breaks over and over again. Sometimes to the point of feeling huge weights on your chest, as if you may choke.

Reality...what a terrible thing.

When your little, you always look to your dad. The most important man in your life. You want to make him proud. You want to make him happy. You want him to know he has raised you the right way. You want to show him that you've created greatness from the life he gave to you.

Just because my dad is dead doesn't mean its okay for me to forget this. I still want him to be proud of me. I want to show him I was worth it. That he made a difference.

Then I have days like today.

Today, someone that I love was very mean to me. They called me horrible names. They physically harmed me. They made me feel like I was nothing. They degraded me so low that for a while tonight I didn't think I'd be able to dig out.

While this was happening, I was embarrassed. I embarrassed myself. I allowed the actions of another to control me. I allowed them to pull me down to their level. I allowed this monster to come into my life. I allowed myself to love this person.

Reflecting now, only hours later...I get to thinking...

What would dad think of all of this?

The answer to that question is the answer I needed to remember in order to know where to go from here.

So...here I am, two years, four months, and five days after my dad's death...and he is still there for me. He is still lending me his guidance.

Who would have thought that possible?

What are you typing?

Well, I've done it. I made it (almost) through this night. Although it is morning now...it still kind of feels like night to me. Probably due to my lack of sleep...but I'm here.

Last night was a horrible night. Glad to say that it's over and (almost) done with.

A few nights ago...I had a strange and quite scary dream. I was havnig a party of some sorts in the back yard...with most of my family, when out of no where my house lights up and is on fire. At the beginning of this fire, it was only the upstairs of my home that was amid flames. During this time...my mother and boyfriend began taking things from out of the kitchen and bottom floor of the house to "save" things as quick as they could before the fire reached the downstairs. They sat there in conversations...saving things. It didn't seem like they were the least bit hasty in saving things. In the midst of this horrible incident...I realize there are people upstairs- where the fire is. So of course, I run up there to save them. In doing this- I get stuck. On steps, maybe? Then a hand appears. The hand of my boyfriend. When I touch this hand...it isn't his. I can immediately tell, it isn't his. But it appears to be him. I denied this hand and waited for my boyfriend's hand. Meanwhile...the ones I thought were upstairs were not. Turns out...two others were up there..who ended up dead.

Dreams have such a way of opening your thoughts and your mind to meanings and possiblities. They hold so much strength behind them that most fail to notice. I have always been a believer that my dreams meant something. That maybe they were trying to tell me something. I haven't always have a great track record with this...but when that record was great- it was well worth all the failures...as scary as they were. I'm not completely sure what this all means. I've had a million different things going through my mind over the past few days and weeks that it could have been triggered by a hundred things. A hundred conversations. A hundred moments of sadness. Who knows. But when it does happen (the reason for the dream)...I'd like to think that I will immediately understand the reasoning. The warning will be clear. I just wish the warning was more to clear to me now as opposed to waiting for failure to happen.

Dont talk too fast to me...slow down...I wanna know.

The bravest man I know. The man who put all of his pride and dignity to the side, and kept me for his own. Accepted me into his life as his daughter. I often wonder his thoughts when he looked at me as a baby. Did he regret it, did he regret making this choice? Did he see another man's eyes in mine? Did he feel anger and anguish when he looked at me? Growing up...when I spoke to him...did he disregard me to an extent because I wasn't his...was I not as important as everyone else? 

I remember when I was hospitalized for surgeries...I must have been ten or eleven years old. He brought me this bag full of candy, all of his favorite candies. He told me it was to make me feel better, he told me that everything was going to be okay.

When my daughter died...he was the first one at the front door to find me. He was the one who grieved with me. He was the first one to tell me that everything was going to be okay. He still keeps her photo beside his bed. He sleeps beside her each night...just like me. 

i wonder if I ever made him proud of me. My dad isn't the most outspoken guy in the world. He doesn't talk much. I remember times when he looked at me...as though he wanted to break down and tell me his biggest secret. His biggest heartbreak. But he never spoke. His eyes, beamed into mine, with so much sadness and fear...as if he knew he should tell me these secrets, but didn't want to give me any of the pain that existed inside of him. He didn't want me to have to live with those secrets. 

I have so many unspoken things to say to this man. So many questions for him. Things and questions that will go left unheard.