Here One Minute. Gone the Next.

Dad with his girl

Dad always wanted a hug.  He always wanted to know the name of the pop artist who was singing the song on the radio.  He always wanted to travel.  He always wanted to have fun.  He always wanted a granddaughter.

Tomorrow, Friday the 13th, marks six years.  I was on maternity leave with my newborn baby girl, getting ready to take her on her first road trip to New Jersey to stay at her grandparents' house.  Emily was just six weeks old.  As I was packing, my mom called to tell me what had happened to my dad.  She had come home from the gym to find him upstairs laying on the floor.  She tried to do CPR, she called 911.  The paramedics came, but it there was nothing they could do.  It was too late.  Dad was gone.

I had been spending a lot of time with him since I was home with Emily.  I had been over the house, and he had been over for a chinese luncheon just a few days prior.  He shared my chicken and cashew special with me and told me he was going to order that one next time.

He loved that Emily.  He laughed at all the snorting she did and loved to just look at her.  I remember each time I fed her, he would ask, "Chocolate or vanilla?"  He was bragging all over town about how he finally got his granddaughter.  He even told me it was the only thing missing in his life ~ that he could die a happy man now.

Who says that?  I always wonder about him and if he knew something wasn't right?  But then again, maybe not.  Because if I knew I wasn't long for this world, I don't think I'd spend my last night at Building 19 for a free cup of coffee.  That's Dad for ya.

We all knew he had heart problems and high blood pressure, that's for sure.  But I don't know.  Maybe it was just his typical morbid talk ~ like how he used to always tell me, "You'll wish you could hug me when I'm six feet under!"  Or, how any time we would discuss fixing up the kitchen or start a project at the house he'd say, "You can do anything you want when I'm gone.  This house is perfect!!  What's wrong with this wallpaper?  It's beautiful!"  Maybe that's what happens when you live across the street from a cemetery your whole life.

The six year mark seems harder this year since all the days on the calendar match up perfectly.  I relive the moments each year, but I think it seems harder this year.  Anyway, I miss him more than ever and wish I could give him one last hug.  Life is precious.  Hug your dad today or call him up and tell him you love him.  Even if he can be a pain in the ass sometimes...

Annie and Dad October 2005 (Super pregnant with Emily)