For Daddy - April 2009

Dear Daddy,

Six months. Wow. Is it really possible that you've been gone for half a year? Truly? It breaks my already-shattered heart.

Part of me feels happy that each month I get further and further from that dreaded day when I learned about what happened to you. The other part of me feels lost and hopeless when I think of the fact that we've been deprived of your presence for this long. Too long.

Though I'm still utterly shocked and dismayed about the whole situation, reality has set in a little more this month. I've had Daddy-directed questions; questions that I'm positive nobody else other than you would have answers to. And it's tax time. I must hold the world record for being the most clueless person when it comes to things like filing taxes and taking care of other random paperwork. Never much cared for that- it was always your sort of thing and I was quite content to have you do it for me. So now what? It's just one of the many ways I miss you.

I started reading this book: "The Shack." I have yet to finish it, but prefer to soak it all up rather than cruise on through anyway. As you know, with me everything is done leisurely at a slow pace. Much to your chagrin, of course. The book is about a man who has a little girl that gets abducted on a family camping trip. Throughout the book (thus far) he has referred to his pain as "The Great Sadness" which I feel is an appropriate tagline. It's all-encompassing, it's applicable, it explains without need for larger explanations. The great sadness is exactly what it is.

WM Paul Young, the author of the book, has done a better job of describing the pain than I have been able to so far. Here is an excerpt that especially resonated with me:

Little distractions, like the ice storm, were a welcome although brief respite from the haunting presence of his constant companion: The Great Sadness, as he referred to it. Shortly after the summer that Missy vanished, The Great Sadness had draped itself around Mack's shoulders like some invisible but almost tangibly heavy quilt. The weight of its presence dulled his eyes and stooped his shoulders. Even his efforts to shake it off were exhausting, as if his arms were sewn into its bleak folds of despair and he had somehow become part of it. He ate, worked, loved, dreamed and played in this garment of heaviness, weighed down as if he were wearing a leaden bathrobe - trudging daily through the murky despondency that sucked the color out of everything.

At times he could feel The Great Sadness slowly tightening around his chest and heart like the crushing coils of a constrictor, squeezing liquid from his eyes until he thought there no longer remained a reservoir. 

And one more that struck a familiar chord:

That night Mack slept in fits and starts as the images continued to pound him, like relentless waves on a rocky shore. Finally, he gave up, just before the sun began to issue hints of its arrival. He hardly noticed. In one day, he had spent a year's worth of emotions, and now he felt numb, adrift in a suddenly meaningless world that felt like it would be forever gray.

"The Great Sadness" is exactly what it is.

Recently the same kind of situation that our family is in happened to someone I almost know- it's a friend of a friend kind of deal. We have been in contact as he is now going through similar things that I am. And as much as one would hope that nobody else would ever have to feel this pain, it does help to know that the path has already been somewhat broken in. That we're not the first to go through it, nor the last. That doesn't mean that the path is not a difficult one to hike- but others have made it through, and so will we.

By the way Daddy, the kind of legacy you are leaving behind shines incredibly bright when one looks at the amount of love people have for you. Your friends, for example. We all know how much you loved golf, and they are in the process of planning an annual event called the Ray Palmer Legacy Golf Tournament. They have formed a committee and have sent out invitations to all who knew you to participate. All of the proceeds will go to establish scholarships for students who are struggling in one way or another. There is even a charity status pending. This was completely their doing and I could not be more proud or grateful that they have decided to honour you in such a big way. The impact you had on the lives of those you knew is so evident. You truly were someone special, and I'm not just saying that because you're my Dad- though you were pretty great at that job, too.

Tomorrow Craig and I are heading to the mountains for a little getaway. The peace and tranquility will certainly be a welcomed escape.

My heart skips a beat every time I think about how much I miss you. I've really felt the physical effects of all this in my system. It's amazing how interconnected emotions and physiology must actually be. My heartbreak often feels literal. 

Yet, six months in and we're all still making it-somehow. That is an accomplishment in and of itself. 

You are so loved, so missed. That will never change.

Love always,

Your baby girl XOXO