Still Hurting From Losing My Dad
And dealing with everything he left behind
I’m going through my Dad’s clothes, and I am crying. A few months ago he put on those jeans, and he wore that belt hanging from a hook, still ready for him to put it on. He wore those large white sneakers and the short-sleeved shirt with his name on the pocket.
Somehow, packing his clothes into boxes makes it all real. He’s gone. He left this earth way before he wanted to. A slip, a fall, a broken hip, and all his plans changed.
My Dad and me
Dad came into my life shortly after my birth father died. I was a sad little girl who needed a Daddy. And he stepped willingly into that role as my loving stepfather.
He played board games with me. His positive spirit brought life back into our home.
I remember one day when I was young, watching him drive a huge tractor-trailer down our street. I was so proud of him. He was energetic and strong and a great driver. I looked up to him,
He was up at 4 am and worked long hours as a truck driver. Every day he came home late at night and relaxed in front of the TV. I spent many hours watching TV with him because being near him made me happy.
