June marks six months since my father passed away; next Sunday will be my first Father's Day without him. I think about my Dad every single day. To be honest, some days are very normal and routine, almost like it never happened. When this occurs, I feel a surge of guilt for feeling happy and wonder if he's looking down wondering if I forgot about him. However, there are nights I shed tears because I simply want to talk to him and I can't. I'm still processing his loss and am sometimes surprised at the emotions I'm experiencing.
My Dad and I did not have a perfect relationship - in fact, we butted heads quite a bit. We tested each other; both stubborn in our ways, but thankfully we were always able to work out these kinks. Though his life was cut short, he was able to make his dreams come true through steadfast focus and integrity. He was undeniably the most giving human being I've ever come across - generous, but not foolish. He was strong in his morals and didn't hesitate to stand up to deceitful behavior. He was brutally honest; I learned to stop lying a long time ago when once he asked where my report card was (in my backpack) but I was afraid to show him because of a bad grade - so I told him I left it at school. I knew I was in deep shit when he then replied 'Ok, I'll drive you to school so we can get it'.
Because of him, I am a better person; even in his absence, his hand on my shoulder continues to be a guiding force. He said that I made him proud, and I want to continue to do so. We used to discuss what song we would dance to if I ever got married; I told him I'd always liked the 'I'll be seeing you' version by Frank Sinatra.
Yes, I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places that this heart of mine embraces - all day and through.
