Dear Dad,
Today is your 70th Birthday. It's a damn shame you aren't here to celebrate, because I had really big party plans for you this year. I guess it just wasn't in the cards for us here on earth to celebrate with you. But there is no doubt in my mind that whatever you are doing on the other side today, you're smiling. And even though there are tears spilling down my cheeks as I type this, I'm smiling too.
This week was the hardest yet for me. I've been remarkably okay since May 20th, when you said farewell to this world. I was relieved for you. I was relieved to see your suffering end. And I am relieved for you to finally become the free spirit I've always known you are. You earned your wings, Dad. You earned them so many times over. And I'm at peace with that.
Your physical absence hasn't weighed on me as much as I know it does for others. Your voice has never left my head, and I don't think it ever will. I'm still talking to you, almost every day. Asking your advice. Seeking guidance. And I don't need you right here with me to know your reply. Because the most important thing you ever taught me was how to answer my own questions. Seek my own council. And guide myself, according to my own principles.
That is the beauty of what you did for me, and I've only just begun to truly see that.
You taught me how to live without you.
All the lessons about the importance of independent thought. All the questions you lobbed back at me to answer for myself. All the countless hours-long conversations about life. About happiness. About family. About perseverance. About faith. About love. And all the ways you not only spoke of those things, but lived them. Your way. And because of you, I live them too. My way.
And all the confidence you had in me. You never wavered. Not once. You never stopped telling me how proud you were of me. Your faith in me was infinite. You were my biggest fan. And because of you, I became my own fan.
All that time. Every moment. You were teaching me how to live. Without you. My God, that's extraordinary.
But like I said earlier, this has been the hardest week yet. It's just been one of those weeks. The kind of week where multiple things haven't gone like I want them to. Nothing earth-shattering, just disappointing. And sad. And for the first time since you died, I was truly feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to forget everything and throw you the greatest 70th birthday party ever. I wanted to make you smile, because making you smile always made me smile. I just really wanted my biggest fan back.
Jesus, now I'm crying again.
But this hard week was important. Because through all of the feeling sorry for myself that I did all week, I knew I was gonna be okay. I knew I was gonna get through it. And even though it was hard, I remembered to feel joy and gratitude despite my pain, and to smile despite my tears. I did those things because you taught me. And my pain this week ended with this realization today, on your birthday. That you spent every moment of your time with me on earth teaching me how to live. Without you. And you succeeded.
Life is hard. And messy. And also so incredibly beautiful. I don't particularly enjoy the painful moments, but I am grateful for them all the same. Because inside the pain is where the greatest lessons are learned. You taught me that, too.
Aunt Bev said something to me right after you died, and it's one of the truest things I've ever heard. She said that grief is the price we pay for love. And she's right. It's totally worth it, too. Loving you is worth every tear I will ever shed.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you so much. And as much as I miss you, I can do this. I will do this. Because you taught me how.
Love,
Jenny
XXXOOOCCC
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