Dear Dad: One Year Later

Dear Dad, 

It's hard to believe that you've been gone a year already. Most days, I still can't believe it. Never in a million years did I think that we'd have to say goodbye to you so soon. To me, you were the man who could never die. There was nothing that you couldn't make it through. I never considered that someday, you wouldn't be here. 

That day haunts me. At the time, it went by in a complete blur. But as the year has gone on, little things come back when I least expect them to, like when I drive past the hospital or hear a beep that sounds like one of the machines. I remember staring at the flat line hoping for even the slightest movement. But it never came. I remember telling everyone that I thought you were okay and then had no idea how I was going to tell them you were gone. I don't even know how or when everyone got there, but it seemed like I turned around and there they were. I see you laying there, lifeless. The man that I called Dad for 34 years, was gone, just like that. No chance to say goodbye, no chance to tell you everything that I would have wanted you to know. 

I hope that in your final moments you knew how loved you were, not just by us, but by everyone who ever knew you. We hated you being gone so much, but we knew everything you did, you did for us; to give us the life you thought we deserved. The lessons you taught me are ones that have molded who I am. When I do something around the house, I'm proud to say I know how to do this because "I'm Wally's daughter". Whether I was right or wrong, you always supported my decision. You let me learn, but we're always there to help me get back on my feet. You might throw in a sly, "I told ya so", but always with the best intentions. If we called you and needed you, you were there. If you could help someone, you did. You were the best. 

Losing you has left a Dad-shaped hole is my heart. Mom is the glue that holds us together, but you were our rock. No matter what job needed to be done or what advice we might need, you always seemed to have the right tool or the right answer. You were everyone's go-to guy. 

I know you are always near. And when I get that gut feeling that something just isn't right or I should make a certain choice, that's when I feel your guidance. I know it sounds silly. But I'm half of you, we'll always have a connection. I don't take those feelings lightly, I know it's you helping me through life. Then there's those times that your song pops up on my iPod, or I smell your cologne. Or when Ryan looks at your picture and smiles. I know he knows you, I don't know how, but he does. In some ways, that little boy is so much like you. When he's concentrating he puckers his lips and scrunched his eye brows, just like you did. He even has your weird toe. How I wish you were here to meet him. You would have gotten a kick out of him. You were so proud to have 4 grandsons. And they were so unbelievably lucky to have you. I know you helped make sure Ryan was okay. 

Brandon talks about you a lot. Sometimes I cry and he says to me, "don't cry mom, he's always with us". He's wise beyond his years. He's growing up so fast. I'm so happy he got almost 5 years with you and I hope he always remembers you. I'll never forget how proud you were the first time you held him. And the first time we came to the boat, you paraded him all over the marina. 

Nothing is quite the same anymore. There are times when I have gone to pick up the phone to call you or I'll say, "Dad would like this". I still watch the planes fly over and wonder if that one is yours. 

Time is now measured in "before Dad"and "after Dad" and nothing will be like before again. 

I miss you so very much. Thank you for always loving me and teaching me the things I'd need to learn through life, you just never taught me how to do this without you. 

I love you, Dad. Until we meet again...

Throwback Thursday - April 24, 2014

Aunt Marji and I at the Mousetrap Bar (no idea who the creepy guy in the background is). 

This weeks Throwback Thursday is dedicated to my godmother, Aunt Marji. We lost her just 2 short weeks ago. 

I always admired my Aunt. She was so strong. In her early 20's, she had a kidney transplant, she was born with only one kidney. Doctors at one point told her that she would never have kids. She went on to have 2 beautiful children, one who literally became a rocket scientist and the other a teacher. That first kidney lasted for many years, until she once again began the process of regular dialysis until another kidney was available for her. 

In 2012, our prayers were answered and she got the call that a match had been found. However, our joy was short lived when in June of 2013, she found out that she had ovarian cancer. The same cancer that took her mother's life (my grandmother) in 1996. With advancements in cancer treatments, we were always hopeful that she would beat this thing. She endured round after round of chemo, all the while hoping her new kidney would withstand the stress. After the cancer had shrunk enough, the doctors performed a hysterectomy and again we were hopeful this was all over. But the cancer had made its way to other places. Attacking other organs in her body. She lost weight, a lot of weight. She lost her hair. But she never lost her spirit. 

Unfortunately, the cancer won and she passed peacefully surrounded by her family. 

She fought hard. She endured more than anyone that I have ever known, but she always smiled. On the surface, she had a "thems the breaks" type of attitude. Just like my grandmother did. 

I always felt a kinship with my aunt. Although I didn't go through anywhere near what she did, we both had c sections. Both our first born were preemie, although hers a few weeks sooner than mine. Whenever I was concerned about Brandon, I thought of her son, who was born at 28 weeks, he is the rocket scientist.

And as with my grandmother, I never understood how someone could face so much uncertainty and endure so much and still stay positive and be grateful for the things that they do have. However, it's people like my aunt and my grandmother that have taught me no mater what, there is always something to be thankful for, even when the situation seems hard and bleak.

I love my aunt dearly and will always miss her. But I know she is no longer living in pain and she is at peace. 

Touched by an Angel?

I've been wanting to get back into writing again lately, but didn't want to write a "hey, I'm back" post. I wanted to wait until I had something meaningful to write about. Last night, that blog post found me, as I'm sure, so did my angel.

After dinner, I decided to go grocery shopping, even though it is the last thing I want to do at 7pm. New Jersey was supposed to get some severe thunderstorms, but the sun was out and the sky was relatively clear. The clouds looked anything but threatening. So, I headed off to the store, list in hand. As I made it through the store, I kept looking out the window watching as the sky grew darker and more menacing. I knew I only had a handful of things left to buy and I had a week's worth of shopping done.

As I stood at the deli counter, I could start to hear thunder. My husband called me, very worried about the storm and I was out in it. Not to mention we still had to cart all that stuff up the stairs. I assured him I'd be fine and I only had a few things left to buy. A gentleman standing at the counter must have overheard my conversation and asked me, "what number do you have?". I replied saying 7 (they were on number 5). He proceeded to switch numbers with me saying, "you're husband seems worried and I have nowhere to be". I thanked him and told him how grateful I was because quite honestly, the storm was getting bad. He was an Italian guy, maybe in his mid forties. He wore gym shorts and a t-shirt and had salt and pepper hair. He looked like the type of guy that coached his son's little league team. He was through ordering before I finished and he was gone.

I ran and got the last of my list and went through the register, paid and bagged all my groceries. You could tell I just wanted to get out of there because my normally organized packing took a serious hit. I just wanted to get done and get home.

By this point, the ran was coming down so hard that the parking lot was flooding, it was very windy and the lightening was pretty vicious. I stood outside under the awning with a few other shoppers. I looked around and said out loud, "FML". We all giggled and I decided it was now or never.

Just as I reached the divide between the cement and the asphalt and just when I was about to get soaked, a car pulled up right in front of me with an umbrella hanging out the window. It was the man from the deli counter. He asked me where I was parked and I pointed to my truck just across the way.

He pulled away and I opened the umbrella and headed to the truck. I was a little nervous about holding an umbrella during a lightening storm, standing in a puddle. But something told me I'd be fine and not to be scared. I quickly loaded all my things into the truck and in the faith of paying it forward, I returned the cart to under the awning.

As I made it back to the truck, the man pulled up again. I folded his umbrella, shook it out and handed it to him through the window. I said, "you were like my angel tonight, thank you so much." He said, "just get home safe" and drove away.

It isn't often that you meet a total stranger that would do that much for another person and I feel truly blessed to have been touched by an angel last night. And even if this man wasn't really an angel, than at the very least my faith in the human race has been slightly restored.

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