Dear Dad,
I will forever remember that day. I was standing in the foyer at church when Zack told me something had happened to you and you weren't waking up. I froze. I tried not to panic as I raced back into the chapel looking desperately for someone to bring me to you. I had to be with you. Why wasn't I there with you? The drive to the hospital seemed an eternity. Not knowing, but also, somehow, knowing. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to curl up in a ball and never face the reality that I was headed towards. Then, I arrived at the emergency room, hoping beyond hope that a miracle had occurred. It hadn't. You were gone. Gone and I never got to say goodbye. They told me that you hadn't felt any pain. They told me that you were gone in an instant. And in that instant, my world changed forever. My father, my sweet dad, was gone.
The rest of that evening is a blur. People came to the house and talked for hours. So many people, so many words, so many stories. I felt numb which was good because I don't think I could have handled the pain of reality. That night, the three of us all stayed together in the front room. We were scared to be apart from one another because, in that moment, I think we felt that it was just the three of us left in the entire world. We didn't want to be alone, and we didn't want anyone to be left alone.
The rest of the week felt like an instant and an eternity, which I'm not sure is possible to understand unless you have experienced it. Each day seemed to pass painfully slowly, and I felt aware of every second, but in no time at all it was Thursday and we were preparing for the viewing. I hadn't seen you since Sunday morning, when we were eating breakfast next to each other and I bade you goodbye like it was any other morning. When we arrived at the funeral home, I felt sick to my stomach. I was shaking and clung tightly to your handkerchief that I had brought with me to help keep me grounded. It is strange how something as simple and insubstantial as a handkerchief had become so vital to my survival through this night.
When we entered the room, I saw the video playing that I had spent hours on trying to make exactly right. I was right away hit with the scent of all of the flowers that had been sent as tokens of love and condolence. But none of that mattered. I saw only you. You looked so peaceful, dad. Like you could wake up and open your eyes and smile at any moment. In that moment when I walked up to you, my world came crashing down yet again. Although I knew that you were no longer there, and that everything that ailed you in this life had been removed and you were happy, I could think of nothing except how much I wanted this to be a dream. This could not possibly be my life. My father was not actually lying in that casket that I helped pick out and we were not standing preparing to receive countless numbers of people who loved him and us. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. But, it was. And it is.
It has now been 10 days. 10 days without you and I can honestly say they have been the worst 10 days of my life. How do I go on without you? What will this new life be?
I guess that's up for me to decide. I'll do all I can to make you smile.
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