Where do I start?
Getting in here to write feels daunting.
I feel like I have too much to say and nothing to say all at the same time.
I would tell someone else to just start. Pick something. Share a story. Share a picture. Share inspiration. Just start.
I will take my own advice and share this picture and start there.
This fabulous family picture is from Thanksgiving. It took quite a few attempts but the end result is worth it. We all look good, we're all smiling and for the most part we are looking at the camera. It's hard however to look at this photo without getting a lump in my throat. It's hard to look without staring at the missing person. I feel like there is a giant sign that hangs above and says "Dad should be here!" with an arrow pointing down.
We took a family photo at Christmas, like we always do, I couldn't even look at it. When it was given to me I turned it over, face down and put it somewhere. I have no idea where. I put it somewhere that didn't matter because I didn't want to see or accept that this is how our photos will look from now on. One man down.
I felt a little lighter about this one. I love it. It's beautiful. Each one of these faces loved Dad. Each one had a piece of their heart taken that day. Each of these faces miss him. When I see this photo I am so proud of these faces, including my own. Proud because we have woken up every day and moved forward. Whether it was many steps or just one, the momentum was forward. When we feel the weight of grief push us to our knees we can all be proud that we stood back up on wobbly legs and pushed forward. It is all so raw still. It still stings. It still makes no sense, I suspect it never will. However, I take comfort in seeing him in our smiles. And hearing him in our stories. And feeling him in the air around me.
I miss you Dad.