For Daddy - October 2009: Year One.

Dear Daddy,

It's been one year since the absolute worst day of my life.

One year since all the happiness was sucked out of me (there was a lot of it) and got replaced with an anguish and despair that nobody can understand unless they have lost someone they love as much as we love you. While that day continues to seem like a nightmare that cannot possibly be real, I remember it vividly - as if it were yesterday.

Since then I have become a floater. I am not really sure how to explain what I mean by that, other than to say that since October 4, 2008 I have been floating through the days. Never really 100% present, just going through the motions; doing what I have to do. In many ways it feels like how I imagine an out-of-body experience must feel. When I reflect on my day on think: "I know I did that, but why do I feel like I wasn't really there?"

I suppose it has something to do with the fact that I lost such a huge part of myself when I lost you. It's about your importance. Which is why I continue to make these monthly blogs public: I want everyone to know just how important you are.

This one year mark can be seen one of two ways: 1.) A milestone. We made it. We've been through the year of "firsts." We've all had our birthdays, we conquered Christmas, Father's day, your anniversary and all the other special dates on the calender. We are still surviving, though the loss never ceases. Or, 2.) Now it's time to begin the year of "seconds," which just means that we've had to be here without you for a longer amount of time.

I suppose it's like the glass half-empty, half-full dilemma. And on a good day I am proud of us. Today, number two prevails, and I just want you to be here with us to provide that perfect balance that we had before you left. Mostly, I just wish I could give you a hug.

It's a funny thing. Here I am learning how to become a counsellor. I am learning about the art of helping others, and I will inevitably be dealing with things like bereavement in my future. Sometimes I cannot help but think that maybe I should have sought the services of a counsellor last year. Maybe that would have been beneficial for me. Counselling after a traumatic experience can never be a bad thing, and losing you has certainly been a traumatic experience for all of us.

One year. One full year.

It remains difficult to comprehend, nearly impossible to believe.

I would give anything to just hear your voice. Just one conversation with you would surely ease the load. I don't care right now about any "higher purpose" or that this is "beyond my understanding." It isn't fair that you were taken so soon. I just want to have a conversation with you, my dad. I don't see why that is too much to ask.

I love you, daddy. One year or fifty years down the road, that will never change. Nor will you be less remembered with the progression of time. You're always on our minds and in our hearts.

Laura XOXO