Well, another week that is passing. Another week I am trying to wrap my brain around the idea of you not being here. Another week I am trying to cope, trying to find reasons to smile. Another week of “not fairs” and “how could you leave me’s” and “I miss you terribly’s”. It is a battle every day and I hate that my last thoughts before I go to bed and my first thoughts when I wake up are of you being gone. My mind is constantly playing a slideshow of you, your life, our life, our moments, our family when we were four and not three.
I talked with Sheye today and told her of how I have lived my life in a bubble…a perfect, happy little bubble in a happy home. A home where “I Love You” was knitted so tightly into our vocabulary. A home where hugs and kisses were handed out in abundance; where phone calls, e-mails, and text messages were a part of daily routine. A home that always smelled of herbs and spices and gourmet meals. Where music constantly played overhead and conversations lasted well into the night. I did not know of anger because it was an emotion you and mom did not know of. I only knew what it was like to be loved, protected, and spoiled.
A moment I will never forget…ten years ago…you bought a brand new digital camera. I begged and begged you to use it. You never could say no to me and caved. In Steve Manthe fashion, we had Olympus digital camera 101 training. You went over every detail of the camera, how it worked, and reminded me time after time to be careful with the lens. After setting the camera on your desk, I knocked it to the floor snapping the lens from the body. I walked slowly into the kitchen where you where standing with my head hung low and tears rolling down my face. I held out the lens in one hand and the body in the other and told you it was an accident. I was waiting for you to yell and scream and ask me how I could be so careless with your brand new, expensive camera. But instead, you did something I will never forget. You took the camera from my hands and set it on the counter. You walked over to me, hugged me tightly and said, “It’s just a camera honey. It can be fixed.” Oh how I wish you were here to fix all of us. I have never forgotten that moment and I never will. It just reflects who you were. How material things didn’t matter. The lessons we teach, the lessons we learn, the love we give, the moments we never get back, the I Love You’s that can’t be said enough, the gifts we share…this is what matters most in this life. I would give all of my possessions up to have you here again.
I talked with Sheye today and told her of how I have lived my life in a bubble…a perfect, happy little bubble in a happy home. A home where “I Love You” was knitted so tightly into our vocabulary. A home where hugs and kisses were handed out in abundance; where phone calls, e-mails, and text messages were a part of daily routine. A home that always smelled of herbs and spices and gourmet meals. Where music constantly played overhead and conversations lasted well into the night. I did not know of anger because it was an emotion you and mom did not know of. I only knew what it was like to be loved, protected, and spoiled.
A moment I will never forget…ten years ago…you bought a brand new digital camera. I begged and begged you to use it. You never could say no to me and caved. In Steve Manthe fashion, we had Olympus digital camera 101 training. You went over every detail of the camera, how it worked, and reminded me time after time to be careful with the lens. After setting the camera on your desk, I knocked it to the floor snapping the lens from the body. I walked slowly into the kitchen where you where standing with my head hung low and tears rolling down my face. I held out the lens in one hand and the body in the other and told you it was an accident. I was waiting for you to yell and scream and ask me how I could be so careless with your brand new, expensive camera. But instead, you did something I will never forget. You took the camera from my hands and set it on the counter. You walked over to me, hugged me tightly and said, “It’s just a camera honey. It can be fixed.” Oh how I wish you were here to fix all of us. I have never forgotten that moment and I never will. It just reflects who you were. How material things didn’t matter. The lessons we teach, the lessons we learn, the love we give, the moments we never get back, the I Love You’s that can’t be said enough, the gifts we share…this is what matters most in this life. I would give all of my possessions up to have you here again.
So tonight, for you, Brady and I went outside and Brady smoked one of the Montecristo cigars you gave him. The smell brought me home to you…my happy home that is forever etched on my heart. A happy home that you have given me all of my life…the same home I will give to my children.
I love you Papa and I miss you so much it hurts.
Your Cowcie
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kristina - This post made me cry! I am sorry for the loss of your Father! he sounds like a patient, kind and loving man, how lucky you are to have been loved and cared for by him! I am sure he is so proud of you, his daughter and all the beautiful memories you capture through your photography! you are a true inspiration to me!
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