Seven months is just too long. I know I should stop waiting for my dad to come home. Because he will never again come home. But I miss him so very much and I keep hoping that this reality of him not being here is some sort of sick twisted joke. He missed Loren turning 13 and he missed Devon turning 2 and he will miss it when Cass turns 10. I hate this version of reality. It is so deeply unfair and wrong. I missed him so much this week when I was meeting with the lawyers, I had so many questions for him. I miss him returning home from work, bringing with him his sense of humor and seemingly infinite knowledge. I miss seeing him with my mother, it was always a realization that love truly does last. I just miss him.
This week when I was going through pictures and negatives I ran across so many shots of my dad. Until now I have been completely unable to look at pictures of him. I still can’t bring myself to look at shots from the past couple of years, it is just too near. But I found these ones from about six years ago. My mom was still using a wet darkroom at the time and she would often request a shoot on the weekends. Loren was still willing to play and Cass always loves to have the lens pointing at her. I love these pictures because it is the sort of thing that when I was younger my fatehr never had time for, something he tried so hard to make amends for with my kids. I wish he was still here for shoots with Devon. I just wish he was here.
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I doubt it’s any consolation but the depth of your grief is directly related to how much you loved your Dad. It sounds like you loved him very much and you’re lucky, not because you lost him, but because you loved your Dad that much. I never did and I think that’s sad. My Dad has been dead seven years and all I feel is relief. It will get better, it never goes away but it does get better.
When my daughter was diagnosed it felt like she died for me. I mourned my loss for a long time. It would get better and then her birthday would come along, or Christmas, or the first day of school and it would hurt almost as bad, all over again. It’s been fourteen years now and it feels like a dull ache now, not gone but I can live with it.
I love these pictures. I hope that you reach a point someday where you can not only display and enjoy pictures of your dad, but can talk to your children about him often and in detail. He will live again to your children through you.