I didn't know in that moment how upside down life would turn, I just knew I wanted my Mom. I'm sorry Dad. But I did. And I remember wanting her there for all of it. And I remember being told it wouldn't be a good idea. And I remember feeling like we had to go to a neutral place so I could see her. And I remember thinking it was complete bullshit. And I remember how she was treated. Good and bad. And I remember thinking she was instrumental in helping you create us, why is this even an issue. And I remember the thousand other thoughts that were going through my head about what we had to do and how we would get through this horrific moment. And what I had envisioned needed to take place and how it would all go down is not even a millimeter close to how it's all actually unfolded.
Tomorrow you would have turned 67. Tomorrow we would have taken you to dinner, maybe Red Lobster, maybe Scapechhi's who knows. Maybe nowhere until Saturday so as not to ruin your Fridany night card night. But instead? Tomorrow we will celebrate your birthday without you. Saturday we will sell your prized possessions and close just one more chapter of a life that ended entirely too soon.
I don't know if you are watching us. Or if you are fishing with Uncle Oley on a lake somewhere up north in Heaven. Or if you and Jesus are playing poker. Or if you and Grandpa are arguing. Or if you are leading a 4-wheeling expedition or got back on a snowmobile. I have no idea. Sometimes I feel you. A lot of times I don't. But if you cannot see us, I hope someone up there tells you what an amazing job Sister has done with what she was handed. And about all the complete and utter bullshit that comes with closing someone's estate. How daily she's questioned about why she did this or that. And they've probably told you I've been very little help to her. And that Brothers tried to remain neutral.
Sister asked me to come do a walk through of the shed a week or so ago. Her car was there so I was relieved. I hadn't come near it since your death. When I walked in though, she wasn't there. And I closed my eyes and I swear I heard ever moment I ever spent there. Kicking the dirt, playing basketball, calling you in for dinner on the CB. Putting air in my tires. The time I electrocuted myself cause I was standing in water. Handing you Windex and falling off the combine. (I've never used Windex since FYI.) The smell of snowmobiles. The rattle of your 4-wheeler pipe. The chirping of the birds who somehow always nested in there. The starting of the combine. And as the tears started flowing I screamed. As loud as I could. "Dad, please, where are you." And I walked through the whole shed alone looking at every single thing you ever laid your hands on and I opened your 4-wheeler box for a token, a momento, ANYTHING to feel you. And it was just empty. Nothing. No feeling. No overwhelming sense of calm. Just raw pure anger. At a lot of things but mostly having to sell your life Saturday and all of the people who do not know why we are or have to. You know why. You've always known.
I am a profoundly sad human right now. And there are things that have been done by those I loved since your death, that cannot be undone. And maybe there is a blessing to that. Right now it just hurts.
I am so sorry I cannot be with you on your birthday. I hope they have cake where you are. You know Sister loves cake. She would send you one if she could.
There is a hole in my heart from your death, that I know can never be filled. And sometimes that hole is open wide and it hurts and other times I can cover it up and it tries to heal. It just feels like every time it's close to healing someone or something rips the band-aid off and it starts all over again.
I miss you. Something fierce. I love you. More fierce than that. Happy Birthday Dad.
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