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Over 10 years and I still miss my dad

13 years ago

My dad died Dec. 27, 1998. He was 59. He was diagnosed with colon cancer just three years prior. It had spread through out his body.

It's been over ten years and I still miss him greatly. I was devastated when he passed away. And now with every other milestone or good thing that happens to me I become upset that he's not here to share and enjoy it with me.

I met my wife just a week or so prior to his death and they never had the chance to meet. I have since had three children. I become so angry and upset that my dad never got to see my kids and that they will never get to see him. Sometimes I feel like I traded my dad for my wife and kids. I know this isn't true, it's just how I would feel sometimes.

I am glad my kids still do have a grandfather in my wife's father, but every now and then it will hit me when my father-in-law is with my kids that their other grandfather isn't here. I talk about my dad with my kids and share memories about him, but it's not the same. I want for them to have their own memories of him and that can never be. It truly makes me sad. I know they would have loved him and he would have loved them.

My dad and I use to watch football games together every year. We were USC and Rams fans for better or worse. Game day morning, the moment I would wake up I would immediately get my dad or he would get me and we would watch the games together. STILL to this day during football season when I first wake up there is that split second of having that feeling of "I need to go get dad to watch the game."

The first few years after my dad past away I couldn't shake the images of him sick and dying in bed. It was about all I could remember when I would think about him. It was horrible. It took me over three years to be able to have a memory of my dad without flashing to images of him being sick.

I miss my dad. I miss him terribly. I want him back so bad. I want to yell and scream at someone and demand they bring him back right now! But there isn't anyone to yell at. He can't come back. There is less in this world with him gone.

Some people tell me it's in God's plan, but I don't see the benefit. My dad was a nice and caring man. He taught us kids to do the right thing even when the right thing wasn't the easiest thing to do. My dad, in a word, was good. People who met my dad liked him and if they didn't like him they loved him. I'm always left asking, like many of you with your lost loved ones, "why?".

The death of my father really rocked my faith in God. Since my dad died I'm afraid to pray. As silly as that may sound it's true. The last time I prayed I asked, begged and pleaded for my dad to be well and live. It didn't happen. And it isn't that MY prayer wasn't answered that shook my faith. My dad was such a good guy and gave God credit for everything good in his life. My dad was such a good example and ambassador for God. If God wasn't going to heal him..... then who?

When I was alone I would shout and yell at God. I would demand that he give my dad back to me. It felt good to yell, but I felt lonely and empty afterwards. Were my words falling on deaf ears? Then a great fear came over me, what if my words were falling on no ears at all? I don't believe that. I believe God heard my prayers, I just didn't like the answer I was getting back.

My kids help me get through life. They are what keeps me going. From time to time I would get terribly depressed missing my dad. Thoughts of suicide would creep in. BUT then I see my kids. They bring me such happiness and joy. There is no way I could leave them and put them through the grief of losing their father. They are what keeps what's left of my faith in God. I don't know why my dad had to die, but I know if I didn't have my kids I wouldn't have survived this long since my dad's death. I believe God knew I would be extremely devastated with the loss of my dad and that I would NEED my kids to make it through.

It has taken me over ten years not to feel guilty for going on without my dad. My dad never would have wanted me to feel that way. I NEVER told anyone how I felt. I'm the oldest son of four kids and I am the one my siblings look to. They would never guess that I had all these doubts. It has taken me over ten years to share these feelings with anyone and I'm doing it anonymously to strangers. But I needed to share. I needed to let someone know about the depression, the guilt and the thoughts. Sharing these things helps to let them go.

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