I hate January 9th. Even though it's been 12 years now, I remember January 9, 1999 like it was yesterday. I was in the funeral procession for my best friends Mom who had died 4 days earlier (as if that wasn't tragic enough) and my Mom got the most awful phone call. It was my brother crying hysterically because he just received a call that my Dad had been in a car accident and was dead. My poor brother was home alone. I wish I could erase that entire day and week following.
Over the past 12 years his absence has broken my heart. He wasn't in the stands when I graduated high school. He never got to walk me down the aisle. He didn't get to hold either one of his granddaughters who are named after him. I don't get to see him on holidays or at family gatherings. And I think the hardest is that he's not just a phone call away and I can't go visit him and just give him a hug.
Loosing a parent is horrible. I was Daddy's little girl. I still have dreams about him and they are so real. So real that I wake up and have to remind myself that he's gone. Breaks my heart.
Today I told Haylee I was going to get balloons for Papa Reggie. She said, "are we gonna let them go in the sky because he died?" Sadly, yes.
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