Every Day

My sister recently started using the phrase "Every Day" when we talk, write, etc. about my dad. A code word of sorts for us I guess. It sums up so much in two little words.

9 years ago today, he died. April 14th, 2002. The worst day of my life. Every Day.

I relive that day, the phone call, the CPR, the noise, then the silence. Every Day.

I long to hear his voice one last time. Every Day.

I miss his soft, kind smile. Every Day.

I miss his encouragement. Every Day.

I look at my favorite picture of him and I and I get teary. Every Day.

I see a school bus and remember what an impact he made on the kids on his bus, and how much he really did enjoy that job. Every Day.

I look at my husband and am SO thankful that he and my dad had sweet times together. Every Day.

I see Matthew being his usual kind and social self, waving and talking to anyone, and see my dad. Every Day.

I love talking about him with Evelyn and hope she knows that he would have just been absolutely in love with her. Every Day.

I think about death. Mine. And Doug's. And I pray God spare my children the pain of losing a parent until they are much much older. Every Day.

I thank God for the 31 years I had with him. Every Day.

I thank God for the grace, faithfulness and strength He has given me ever since that fateful day. Every Day.

....oh, how I could go on and on.

I miss him so much. He was one in a million. The best of the best. I wish he was still here. Every Day.

When I was 7th grade, I broke my arm. Bad. I had a cast for almost 3 months. People would see that cast and know that I was hurt. Then the cast came off and I started to move on from it and regained full use of my arm. It was and is hard to tell anything had happened. But look at an xray and you would see two large metal plates and more than a dozen screws. You would know it how badly it had been broken.

Some say time heals wounds. And in some ways, it does. It has been 9 years after all. From the outside, you would think that I am living life to the fullest. Yes, God is good. Life does move on. I am blessed more that I could have ever wished for. I am one fortunate gal...

But if you were to look deeper, you will see that my heart is still so very broken over losing my dad.

I love you and miss you, Dad.

Every Day.

Every year on the anniversary of my dad's death, I write. It's therapeutic for me I guess.
For previous posts, click here, here, and here