A love note to Heaven

Well, here we are . . . . two years later. Already. And yet, it was just yesterday, wasn't it?

I miss you so much Dad. I don't know who coined the phrase that it gets easier with time, because that is a flat-out lie. If anything, it gets harder. I still expect to see you following Mom through a door, or sitting in the driver's seat when I pass a tan Park Avenue, or to hear your voice when I call your house. And when the harsh reality of your absence brings me crashing back to that horrible day, it rips the scabs off the wounds (as if they would ever get to heal anyway...).

I let BB and LB stay home from school today. They heard we were getting the family together to have lunch and visit and then go together to the cemetary to pay our respects and it was very important to them to come. They made sweet pictures to lay on your grave, both of them of lighthouses. They also picked out some funny-faced pumpkins they thought you would enjoy. And, in keeping with tradition there were Peeps, a chocolate-covered marshmallow pumpkin, and a Snickers bar. Then, they wrote on some balloons that they love you and they miss you and released them at your grave, hoping they would make it to you in Heaven. I wish I still had that naivity and innocense. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe it hurts more. I don't know. All I know, is that I'm 42 years old and I still need my Daddy.