Today would have been your 83rd birthday. Oh what I would give to be able to just have the ability to call you and tell you, “Happy Birthday,” and express to you how much I love you and miss you. So much has happened in the past 4 years. I’ve changed so much. Grown so much. People have so much more meaning to me. Ever since you left me, I’ve wasted no time in telling people that I love them. Even if it has the possibility of coming back to bite me in the ass.
The next year and a half are such big years. Noah graduates high school, Jeff graduates West Point, and I graduate with my undergrad degree. Life feels like it’s battering me non-stop. It’s crushing me. There isn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t give right now to be 8 years old again and to be able to wake up early with you, give the dogs treats before breakfast, and drink your special coffee-milk with a cinnamon sugar waffle while reading the comic section of the paper. Life was so simple back then. You were my rock.
I try so hard not to be sad or angry at you because I know that’s not how you would want me to be, and not something that would make you happy. The sadness just hits me out of the blue. It’s like a great wave climbing over green lands and above the hills. I stand on the brink. It’s utterly dark in the abyss at my feet. A light, that light happiness secretes, is behind me but I can’t turn.
You are apart of that sunshine, all of the happy memories; but, you are also the sadness that surrounds the abyss at my feet.
I’m stuck in between the two, unable to move in any direction. Not towards the abyss or towards the sunshine. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world.
It’s a feeling of suffocation, of drowning.
I’m trapped and I can’t move.