3 Years

Today marks the 3 year anniversary of my Dad’s death. I can’t believe that it has already been 3 years. In a way it seems like it has been ages but yet it still feels like it was yesterday as well.


It is a weird feeling, this thing called grief. I certainly don’t grieve the same way that I did 3 years ago, the whole process having kind of evolved into a entirely different way of coping. I still miss his voice, and I still am broken hearted that I can’t pick up the phone and fill him in on the latest crazy antic of his precious granddaughter or just hear his voice. I know that he would be beaming with pride over her and I know that he would show her off to everyone that he came in contact with. Those two really would have been quite the pair!

We are so lucky though that we have the wonderful family that we do have around us and there is no short supply of tales and anecdotes to be told on his behalf. I tell Rory all about her Papa every chance that I get and I have to laugh at her sometimes when I see that same “you talkin’ to me?” expression that he used to give me. She is just pure joy and I know that he had to have a hand in picking her just for us. She is 100% perfect and exactly what I envision he would have picked if he had the opportunity.

As the time has passed, I have found that I can sometimes feel him with me and I do dream of him occasionally, which always makes me feel good. Sometimes when it is just Rory and I in the car on the way to Decatur, I could swear that if I look over at the passenger seat fast enough, I am going to catch a glimpse of him sitting there, drumming his fingers on the arm rest to the drum beat of the music. Sometimes I even talk to him while it is quiet or when I have had a really rough day and just need to be loved on. I know that he isn’t here, or at least the logical portion of me does. However, I know that the best parts of him will never leave, the parts of him that live forever in my heart, in my mind, in my actions and in my life.

Dad,
I miss you so much that it hurts sometimes. I know that you are loving it in heaven, on golf courses that put Pebble Beach to shame! I thank you for your life, and for working so hard to create a legacy that I am proud to carry on. What a huge responsibility you have left me in your wake, to continue the good deeds you began. You were my fiercest defender and my harshest critic, but more importantly my best friend and confidant. I don’t know of anyone who loved more completely or more selflessly than you and I can only hope and pray that I show even a fraction of the same to those around me. I love you so much and am so thankful for the years that we were together. You will always be my first love and my hero.
Love, Fritz