10 years.

So I knew this day was coming. It does every year. But this year, this year it has been 10 years since my Dad died. 10 years. That makes me take pause. It makes me sad. I've been really missing my Dad and missing having him experience my life. See me. See my babies. See my house. See my existence. And it hurts and it sucks and it has me thinking a lot sadness, grief and missing someone who you can never have back. And I feel like I have finally figured out a way to describe the feeling, at least for me. Grief and missing my Dad is like a blanket which I carry around all the time. Most of the time it is gossamer and so thin that I hardly notice the weight on my shoulders. But at times that blanket gets heavier. Sometimes it is a good memory weighing me down like a soft, cotton coverlet on a Summer night. But sometimes it is heavy and like a scratchy wool blanket it seems as if it will almost suffocate me. I cannot see beyond the moment or the memory and in those moments, my heart hurts. Since having Huck I have had a few more heavy moments, weighed down by the wool blanket of grief. It is not because I am sad, per se but because I am disappointed of all that Daddy is and will miss out on. I cannot show him my two beautiful boys and my sweet life that I have created with Matt. It is a struggle to see the positive sometimes but I have come to understand that you do not grow out of grief nor does it ever leave you alone completely. But it does get lighter and I hope that there are more gossamer blanket days ahead.

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