(Me ready to pop! Pregnant with Grayson, about 38 weeks)
I was laying on the couch 39 weeks pregnant and instead of anxiously waiting for my son to be born, I was mourning the loss of my father. Instead of relishing in the fact that Grayson Ryan would be here any day, I rested my hands on my stomach and sobbed. I cried so hard I couldn't catch my breath. I feared for the stress I was putting on his tiny body. I feared that he would feel the pain I was feeling. Could he feel my heart breaking? My heart shattering into a million tiny pieces? I couldn't stop it. The tears rolled down my face, my body shook with sadness, it was uncontrollable. I was in shock, I was sad. Nothing anyone could say would make me feel better. The only thing that provided me with some peace was rubbing my very round pregnant stomach, knowing my son would make his appearance when the world was safe for him.
(Bella, this was my dad's screen saver on his cell phone when he died. He LOVED this picture of her. I texted it to him because she had taken her shirt off and was singing and dancing around. We were having a great day that day and he loved it!)
Today is really just another day, it was a day I missed my dad, it was a day I wished I could call him. It was a day I tried to recall his voice and listen through the madness or every day activities to hear what he might be trying to tell me. Sometimes I can hear him, sometimes I can feel him. Today was no different. I kept myself overly busy for fear that I might just break down any minute. In all honesty, I try not to cry during the day. I try to just wait until everyone else is in bed and I'm alone. Sometimes I lay in bed and cry after Ryan is asleep. Sometimes I cry during nap time when I'm alone. It's when I'm alone, when life is silent that I miss him the most, that I allow myself to break down. I don't want the kids to see me sad. What I want more than anything is not to have to explain to my very aware, very smart, attentive 2 1/2 year old why her mama is sad and crying. It's a hard thing for me to wrap my head around. It's a hard thing for me to understand why my dad died or what went wrong during those few days. How on earth would you explain that to someone when you can't fully understand it yourself?
Two days after my dad died, my son decided it was time. It was time to give me hope once again. It was time to take my focus off of my sadness and onto happiness. That would be my dad, never sulking in sadness for long, always moving toward the positive. It was when I was in labor that we officially decided to change Grayson's middle name from Ryan to John after my dad. I'm lucky, my husband is a lot like my dad. He's a good, solid, hardworking, dedicated man. He likes his wife to be happy. I cried, I was sad to not give our firstborn son his father's name. His daddy is an amazing man. I was sad to be naming my son after my father because he was no longer here. But giving him my dad's name also brought me happiness, it was a way to honor him, to let him live on in my family, in my life.
So today and every day I miss my dad. It's really no different. Today, my wish is that my son turns into everything his Papa John was and more. Which also means that he'll be like his daddy. Ryan and my dad are so much alike in so many ways. More than anything they have deep hearts, they love unconditionally, they provide support when you need it most, they know when to back away, they work hard, they are strong willed, they are positive people who seek good first, they drink milk with their meals, they are meat and potato kind of guys, jean and t-shirt wearing dudes, they are smart, they both research everything until you can't research anymore. My dad was a good man, that's why I married a man so much like him. I hope I can keep his spirit alive in both of my little people.
(The date is wrong but this was a picture at Germaine's Luau. We went there after my wedding. I drank too much and I'm sure so did Dad!This is his famous stretched arm shot. I try to master it but I'm no where near as good!)
~today is the 1 year anniversary of my dad's death







