4382.91 days later I still miss him.

Today I needed a hug from the most amazing guy in my life. Then I realized that he was no longer here. It has been twelve years, 4382.91 days since my father died, and it amazes me how it still feels so unreal.

In the days and weeks following my fathers death, countless people told me “it will get easier.” Now, twelve years later, I can say that yes, in some ways it has.

My fathers death is no longer one of the first things I remind myself of when I wake up. It is not the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. It certainly no longer consumes me. But one thing is for sure, I know I will never stop missing him.

I still have days when it’s just as painful as it was twelve years ago, and I still have moments that make my head spin. I would give anything to see him again, though if he suddenly appears I would need a moment to pick myself up from the floor.

To see his smile, hear his laugh and to just have a chat would mean so much.

Days like today make me realize again of how fragile and precious life really is. It scares me just how quickly it can be taken away.

My father was a strong man, he lived life to the fullest and had this amazing sense of humor, don’t get me wrong he had his stubborn moody moments.

A lot of people say I am very much like him, and that actually makes me smile because above all he was a very highly thought of man.

He would always be there for his family. When life got hard he would be the one you would turn to for advice, sometimes you might not like to hear what he had to say, believe me he had no problems telling people just how things were. There was no sugar coating things with him, but you had to respect him for that.

The day he died I remember thinking how can I pick up the pieces when one very important piece is gone forever? For a long time I did not know how.

I realize now that the way is to not be afraid and to face life full on, just like he would. Whenever I have to make a decision I ask myself what would Dad do? And the answer would be live life to the fullest, fight every battle like it’s your last (cuz it just might be), and thank God for every day and moment you have. Well he would not be thanking God as he was not religious but he would be thankful.

When things go wrong for me I hear his voice in my head saying “everyone makes mistakes, but you learn from them and move on. There’s no point in dwelling on what could have been”.

Some days are hard, some days are easy. All of us like the easy days, however most of the time it is the hard days that we learn the most from.

Sometimes I get down when something does not go to plan and things get messed up, but then I hear his voice again “When you hit that fork in the road, who said you had to go left or right? Go off-road and make your own path, and stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself”.

My father did not do emotions that well, but he cared so much and would often show you how much in his own way.

My son’s are very much like my father, My oldest son has his serious and thoughtful side. My second eldest has his wonderful sense of humor, he even has his walk. My third son has his compassion. My fourth son has his passion for football. Even my daughter’s is so witty, just like him. They all have his eyes, and when they look at me I see him looking back at me.

They all love hearing stories about him and they often talk about him. And it is at that point I see he is not gone, he actually lives through his grandchildren.

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