Today would have been his 63rd birthday. For anyone who doesn't know, he passed away on May 9th of this year. My 29th birthday.
I've thought of him every day since. Some days more than others. But every day.
I still can't bare to erase his number from my phone, or his email from my contacts.
There seems to suddenly be unlimited reasons to call him, or email him--- stories to tell him, questions to ask him... even if it's just because I know it would make him feel good... he liked to share his opinion. :)
I'm pretty sure I think of him more now than I did when he was here with us, which makes me sad.
Every time I see a man about his age, bouncing around in this life, without a care, I feel cheated. Especially when I see one who's loud and barrel chested and confident, like my dad. Somehow they're still invincible, like he always was.
Every time I see a little, old, fragile grandpa, I feel cheated for my kids. They were supposed to know him--- good and bad, and watch him get old and kooky. And gain that much more insight into where they came from-- and that much more perspective on people. They were supposed to hear all the stories I heard, but all the more exaggerated with time and age.
I think of how PROUD my dad was of everything good that I did, and everything good that my children did. And as I watch them grow-- even a day at a time-- I realize that we were just barely getting started. It almost kills me that he can't read or hear the things they say and do these days. I just hope he's allowed glimpses sometimes.
Sophia still prays almost every night, that Grandpa Randy will be safe in heaven. With the seal.
I wonder what he's doing. I've never felt so tangled up in thoughts about the afterlife as I have after my dad's passing. I just hope he's happy and reunited with family, and that he knows how much he's missed. And that his regrets are few with his new perspective.
I did Body Pump the other day and there was a white-haired gentleman right behind me. He got to out-lift most of the class (since he was one of 2 men there), and I found myself distracted and choked up a couple of times if I let my mind wander. It's just such a strange thing--- that he could be healthy and happy and ALL things that represent my dad.... in all of his strength and charisma and intensity... and that in 8 short weeks all of those same things could be sucked out of him, leaving him so empty that the fight had to end.
I meant to write more positively... but he's been on my mind so much lately... and today I just really really miss him--- and wish he could have celebrated so many more birthdays.
Love you dad.