Monday, July 11, 2016

Dear Dad...

Today is the 7th anniversary of your death. I still can't wrap my mind around it being that long. It both does and doesn't feel like much time has passed. I haven't forgotten what you look like but I occasionally forget what your voice sounded like. I guess that's normal since it's been so long.

I started playing the guitar again. This time, it's a little more regularly. I stopped playing after you died. It took me a good 5-6 years to really find any interest in it again. You promised me a guitar shortly before you died which still occasionally hurts. No, getting the guitar doesn't matter; it's the fact that you promised something that will never be fulfilled that got me down. It's a constant reminder that there were things we planned that will never get fulfilled. Every time I picked the guitar up, I was reminded of you and that promise. I remember all those times you drove me to my lessons as well as the times you drove me to get my first two guitars (and how you picked out the first one I ever owned). I think it was quite funny that the only thing that cheered me up this weekend was picking up my acoustic guitar and playing, followed by singing. There's more music in the house, like you liked when you were alive.

I've been through heck and back over the last year but I'm still here, thriving despite the setbacks. I still have that fire in me that I inherited from both you and Mom. My health has gone through ups and downs but I'm overall recovering. The car accident didn't feel me down for too long and I've been driving ever since I got my car back from the mechanic. You'd be proud of me for that. I know you were worried about me and my anxiety before you died but it's been better than it's been since I was a teenager. I've had moments of anxiety (and the darn antibiotics brought them back this past week) but I'm not letting it keep me down for long. Your little girl doesn't get easily scared nor does she quit.

Speaking of quitting, despite the academic setbacks, I've not quit that either. I'm returning to the SLP field. I was accepted to Utah State once again over the weekend. I should be graduating early next May. On your deathbed I promised you that I'd take care of Mom and since it's becoming quite clear that she's going to need to retire sooner than later, I've put my dreams of that Theology MA on the backburner in favor of a career as an SLPA. Isn't that what you and Mom taught me; that sometimes we need to make sacrifices for our family? Once I can get that going, I'll return to finish the other degree. I don't regret it nor am I upset at the sudden change of plans. They weren't what I had planned but God knows what He's doing. I know He is helping guide me down this journey of mine and for now I have to focus on this. :)

Not much else to report on. I'm that same content little girl you raised. Things don't always work out as I'd like them to and I do get down for a little while but I bounce back. I'm still incredibly silly when I'm with those whom I trust. I still carry myself the way you and Mom taught me to act. I hope you'd be proud of the woman I've grown up to be. I still feel like I'm growing but I think that's a never ending process.

I'm still single (I'm sure you'd appreciate that since my sister married so young, lol) but I'm happy. I know I have to be happy with myself by myself or else I'm going to place unrealistic expectations on the future fella and future family. I still think it's in the cards for me but not now. For whatever reason, I have to wait a bit longer and that's okay. One of the last things you said to me before you died was that you trusted my judgment when it came to relationships and that's something I continue to carry with me. Don't worry, I've got more than enough people willing to step in and check out (*cough*interrogate*cough*) potential candidates. Thank you for raising me with old fashioned values; it's helped me weed out jerks.

I still think about you all the time and you pop up in my dreams quite often, especially when I have an important decision weighing on my mind. I hope I can continue making you proud. I'll always remember the lessons you taught me (especially how to parallel park like a boss) and make sure I'm the best person I can be.

With love,

No comments: