Dear Daddy,

Happy birthday Dad. It’s hard to believe it’s been 9 months since you left this world. So much has changed. I think we all still feel a bit lost and like we have become such different people. I don’t think I’ll ever trust the world like I used to.

The last few days have been tough. Amongst the drama of my personal life, you’ve been at the forefront of my mind. I still feel an aching emptiness in my chest when I think about you. I miss the way you used to laugh, the way you would whistle to get my atteiont, the way you would give me that big one arm hug every time I left your side. How you always asked how work was, how my car was running, and if I had enough money in the bank.

I don’t think I ever realized what a huge impact and factor you were in my life until I had to wrestle with this aching hollow in my chest day after day after day.

I keep thinking about how long you must have felt so lost and alone as you wrestled with your depression. The emptiness you must have felt inside. Feeling overwhelmed, hopeless, afraid, scared, worthless. I hate to think that my big strong dad ever doubted himself for a single second because you were truly a magnificent father and man.

I remember the last time I saw you. It was the day after Halloween, you and mom and come to church with the family. You had actually been coming for several weeks in a row which we were all amazed and overjoyed at, of course now we know you were just preparing for the end. Each week you’d seemed to open yourself up a little more. I remember laughing with Duckie how the first week you didn’t sing or clap your hands, the next week you sang a little, the next time you sang and clapped your hands. That last Sunday, the Sunday before you killed yourself, you actually cried in church.

I was so moved that maybe God was working in your heart, but I think you were finally feeling the pleace you needed with your decision to end your life. We walked out of church and all gathered outside like we typically did. It was a little on the cool side but it was beautiful and sunny. We stood around talking for a few minutes and I asked you if you were going to go to lunch with us. You looked at me with such sad eyes and said no, you were tired and wanted to go home.

I felt frustrated. I wanted you to go. I wanted you to be ok. We’d only found out about your depression three days before and I wanted to shake you and snap you out of it. But I didn’t. I tried to convince you to join us but you said you were really tired. I remember looking at your face and thinking how much better you looked than you did the day we took you to the hospital. But your eyes were still so sad. I reached up and hugged you, maybe a little longer than normal, and told you I loved you. I can’t remember what you said to me, if you said “bye” or not, but I remember seeing you turn and walk away slowly to the car with mom.

I know now, you were probably looking at me and my kids and thinking it was the last time you’d see me. If I’d had any inkling of what would happen a mere 24 hours later, oh my God Dad, I’d have said so many other things to you. I would have begged you not to end your life. I would have pleaded with you to hang on and fight just a little bit longer. I would have done anything I could have to let you know how much you were loved and what a void you would be leaving in our lives.

You’ve already missed so much in the last 9 months and I’m sitting here with my heart breaking thinking of all you’ll miss in the years ahead. I do believe you’ll see us and know what’s going on in some form or fashion but it’s not the same, not for us.

I love you Dad. I miss you Dad. What I wouldn’t give for even one more second of your life….

Miranda