Today is my Dads birthday. He would have turned 80, a mild stone he will never know. This past week has been exceptionally hard. All the memories of his stay in the hospital last year, celebrating Easter and his birthday there and his yearning to come home, ripped at my heart and tore it just a little more. I know my Dads okay, I know he no longer suffers with the pain of those last few days, but somehow, the selfish side of me, doesn't want to know that. I want him here with us ... with me. Telling me everything will be alright, assuring me the choices I make are not always going to be perfect, but make them anyway, and most importantly, for making me feel like I was the shining star in a sky of darkness. He always seemed so happy to see me, I miss the look in his eyes when I walked through the door. The hug that made me feel safe and the smell of his aftershave as I kissed his cheek. I miss his laugh, his kind words, his strength and his warmth.
I know one day, I will see him again, but sometimes that's just not enough. I want my Dad back now. I know it's not possible, I do, but it won't change me from saying it, thinking it or on some days ... screaming it. He left us too soon. He still had things to do. He still had memories to make. We still had memories to make with him. I want my Dad ...
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