I always think about my dad, but I can't bring myself to write. Writing makes me live in the sadness, though I know it is good to get it out.
My birthday was hard without my dad, and I knew it would be. I have a lot of great people in my life, but my dad was that person who loved me unconditionally and could verbalize that in such a way that it brought peace and security to me. I always knew I could count on him to just love me. My dad often told me how proud he was of me and how much he loved me, but on my birthday, I could always count on him. I always knew my birthday was special for not only me, but him too. He was a soul full of emotion, and would ponder life. Even as imperfect as I am, I knew that he felt I was such an accomplishment in life. I made him extremely proud, though undeserving by me. I wish he would take credit for my good parts, since he shaped me, but he didn't- he gave all the credit to me. It was hard on my birthday not to get that phone call or get that big hug wishing me a happy birthday, wanting to know my plans, hearing that he was thinking of me and proud of me, and that he was praying for me. Everyone needs a person like my dad in their life. I know it even more now.
I've realized that I'm upset at God. I've tried to just ignore the whole thing, because I don't want to make any stupid decisions or even put words to what I just did. My dad was an amazing person who deserved to live longer. His family needed him. His ward needed him. We all prayed and fasted and made promises, and none of it mattered. I know there is more reason to his death- that there is more to this world and that my dad is probably doing amazing things- but it doesn't take away my human pain and the pain I feel for my mom. I wish I could feel my dad or see him or know what he is doing. I wish we were more connected between worlds. So I try to forget how upset I am, and still just press on in church for my kids and for my dad. I have a calling for him- he would be proud. I wish the couple years before he died, I could have been better at church callings and attendance- despite my anxiety- for my dad. I'm sure that was hard for him. So now I do. My mom and I went to the temple again, and it feels good, but I wish the feelings could last longer.
