I miss my dad.
Going back to college has been harder than I thought. The course is amazing and I’m loving every moment of it, but not picking up the phone at the end of the day to tell my dad about it is killing me. I hate that I am not able to tell him the new things I am learning, or the old stuff I am relearning. I don’t get to see that proud look on his face, as. share the news that I have been made class representative.
It’s so hard.
He was the one I would pick the phone up to first, he was my go to person when I was stressed, scared, happy or sad and, as I was reminded this week, he was also the one I’d call when I’d have call mum and been unhappy with her response. I can’t remember exactly what the phone call was about, I think I was stressing about the work load and deadlines and rather than telling me it would all be fine, we ended up discussing her needs and where I would fit in visiting her. Dad always got where I was coming from, he was selfless and gave me permission to put myself first. Something I am struggling to do since he died.
Yesterday was a big day. It was Ss dads’ birthday (I am not 100% certain that ‘ is in the right place, we just did a lesson on where you place commas and although I thought I got it at the time, now I am not so sure. I digress) S bought a card. Now to most people this might seem an obvious thing to do on someones’ birthday, but S is very much anti-card and the fact he bought one means a lot. In fact it was such a surprise that his entire family commented on the fact that S had, possibly for the first time in his adult life, bought his dad a card.
Anyway, S and I are in the card shop and he picks up a “happy birthday dad” card and it killed me. This isn’t the first time I’ve been into a card shop since dad died, but until now I have given the whole section a very wide birth. Even S letting me sign the card, and the whole overanalyse that should be carried out in this situation, well at least in my head, couldn’t distract me. I am never going to send my dad a birthday card ever again. I am never going to buy him a present or open up my front door to see him standing there, or hear his voice down the end of the line, or feel one of those massive hugs he would give me that made the entire world a little bit easier to bear. He’s never going to look after me when he is sick, or comfort me when I am crying and it breaks my heart.
But worse than that is all the possible future stuff that he is going to miss out on. Dad never met S. They nearly did, once. But S backed out. It was only a month or two into us dating and what was going to be a quiet ‘meet the folks’ turned into an ‘meet the entire extended family’ so he backed out. The plan was he would meet just my mum and dad another time, but then dad got so ill it wasn’t fair to him. S wouldn’t have met my real dad, just the shell of the person he had become and my dad was struggling to put on a brave face for those of us who knew and loved him. I wasn’t prepared to let him put himself through the effort and stress.
It’s now been 22 months since S and I went on our first date, and I am hopeful that one day there will be a wedding and children and a life together. But I hate that I am going to have to do all that without my dad. My dad was such a family man, and my mum, my sister and I were his world – devoted, we the term used at his funeral. All he ever wanted was to see us happy and it’s not fair he will miss out on so many of those happy moments. He was so young, and so good. He didn’t deserve this.
It’s just not fair. I want him back!