52 years ago

52 years ago, a man with a purpose of 5 kids was born

52 years ago, a man who loved ray bans, fedoras, and his boots was born

52 years ago, a man who had tattoos, peace signed shirts, and a pedicure was born

52 years ago, a sports fanatic who always had cool new electronic toys was born

52 years ago, a man who always smelled of stale cigarettes and amazing cologne was born

52 years ago, a man with a life cut too short was born

52 years ago, my dad was born

1 year, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago, children lost their father and a wife lost her husband.

1 year, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago, a princess lost her king

1 year, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago, a sports team lost their fan

1 year, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago,  a clean freak's home became a tad dirtier

1 year, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago, kids in need of their biggest advice giver, became confused

1 year, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago, my dad died

Dad, when you left, I had just moved. I needed you more than ever. You always knew what to say at anytime of day. The morning of Father's Day, I couldn't wait for you to hear me say those words every father wants to hear: Happy Father's Day. Instead, I woke to my mom, step-dad, and brother telling me you were gone. It wasn't real. I refused to believe it. The days following, seeing your body in that horrid casket, and speaking at your funeral. It was a dream. I had dreams about you, that you didn't know you were dead. I hated that word. I still despise that word, dead.

You taught me how to live. You always would tell me, "You'll never know when I'll be gone" or my personal favorite, "No dating, 'til Daddy's dead". I know you weren't serious, but seriously, I still laugh at that. You traveled. You experienced life. You told my brothers and I to experience life. You always knew how short life was. Looking back, I should have payed more attention.

It's not all bad times, though. Like the times you took me to Branson, Missouri to drive the duck boats. Or the time you let me and the boys drink Watermelon Boone's Farm on New Year's Eve in 2000. The time we drove cross country in the back of your truck, or when you brought us to America's Biggest McDonald's and we ate sandwiches in the parking lot. Some of my best memories are to the tune of "Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison and to the scent of incense on the top floor of your house. 

I miss you. I wish you could see who I'm becoming, to break this guy's legs, and to tell me where to go to college. I know you love my step-dad, and you know I'm in good hands, but I must say when you left us, I felt less carried. I've been to LA and a few high schools. I'm going to Hawaii in a few months and if you could ask God to possibly make things a bit clearer, that'd be great. Joshuah has his own house. Jacob is almost done with college. And I graduate in a less than a year and a half. I hope you get your Harley to ride on the streets of gold on this golden and a half birthday. Wait for me by those pearly gates and I hope your having fun with your dad up there. We miss you so much. 

I love you.

Your princess,

Jessie