Twelve years ago today, I lost half of me. Half of my world, my mind, and my heart were lost when my Dad left this Earth all too soon. Half of my life has been spent with this hole I have tried so hard to fill.
I've been in and out of love, cherished my childhood friendships, crossed paths with so many amazing souls, traveled the world more than anyone in my family, and this hole will still never be filled. I don’t have many memories of my Dad, let alone many pictures, but the memories I do have are so vivid, strong and filled with pure love.
This loss has not defined me. It has challenged me, absolutely. It has kept me closed and open-hearted, scared and bolder, all at the same time. On this day twelve years ago, I was at Plaster Fun Craft with Frankie and his sister, painting away like the little 9-year-old I was.
Then the motions started happening: Keith frantically picked me up early. One silent car ride speeding through Elwood later, we pushed through the back door to my Mom and Uncle standing in the kitchen. They had no words other than “we lost him."
Hours later, after napping away my sadness, I showed Mom what I had painted that day. Blues and pinks and a little yellow covered my work of art that said just one word: Smile.
Anyone looking at this photo will agree that I have my Dad’s smile. If that smile is all I can share with this world, then he will certainly always be with me.
RIP 8/2/02