Missing You
Yesterday, I met with a surgeon to talk about what can be done about my ankle. Eleven years have gone by since I broke my ankle, and as I sat there answering questions about it, I realized that I was talking about a time in my life when you were still alive.
I remember how you and Mom came to the hospital with new sweat pants and sweat shirt that you’d bought for me, so I would have something to wear home after my pants were cut and my ankle was bound.
Without being asked, you realized I needed help watching the kids, and you arranged to have Heidi stay, and you paid her to do it. That first week, I was on pain meds and spent most of my time sleeping on the couch. Steve still had to go to work, and I never would have been able to take care of the girls by myself. Steve and I didn’t even have time to worry about what we would do because you took care of it.
I miss you, Dad.
You would have been 75 today.
I can’t believe its been 6 years since you died. There are so many things I wish you were still alive to see. I wish you were here to know that I was teaching.
This summer, Maxine asked me if you had always been in a wheelchair, and I realized she didn’t have any other memories of you.
I can’t go on listing all of the things that are different without you…. It’s hard.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
