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"A portrait of my child once a week, every week, in 2013."

Because this day is for the dads, a couple pictures of J and his daddy's girl checking the freshly cut hay. 

Happy Father's Day J... you blow me away daily with your tender heart and love for our daughter. She is a very lucky girl to be able to call you her Daddy. 

Linking up with Jodi.

And because I can't let this day pass without acknowledging my Dad. The man who set the highest standards for dads everywhere. He has been gone for over 18 months now but it honestly feels like just yesterday that we lost him. The second year seems harder than the first... It's like your just supposed to carry on with life like normal. Except its not. Dad is still gone. It will never be normal. 

Miss you so so so much Daddy. Today, tomorrow, forever & always.

Happy Father's Day. 

Dear Dad.

Dear Dad,

I'm scared. Its only been 14 months since you were taken from us but I feel like my picture of you is fading. The edges of the image I have of you in my mind are blurring and I'm losing the fine details. The tone and lilt of your voice are losing their nuances. I am having a hard time remembering your smell, that mixture of new car smell, a bit of Old Spice, shaving cream and cigarettes. Its like I'm losing a little bit of you every day, no matter how hard I try to remember.

So I sit and look at old pictures. Squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember your voice. Inhale deeply and think about that smell. A smell that will always remind me home and a sense of security.

Maybe its my subconscious trying to heal me, take away the pain I feel every time I am reminded of you. But I won't let it. I need those painful reminders. I need the little details of you to remain vivid and sharp.

Luckily, your grand daughter is a living reminder of your spirit. The twinkle in her eye was the twinkle in your eye. And music. The way she loves music is the way you loved music. She sways to the beat and taps the floor and if the song really pumps her up, she does a little head shake too. And that's when I am reminded of you the most. Nights in the kitchen rocking out to Van, concerts down town, or that sweltering hot June night when you danced that father daughter dance with me and gave me away to the love of my life.

Love you Daddy. Miss you more than I can even say.

xoxo
Cait

Dear Dad.

It has been a year since my Dad was taken from our lives suddenly and without warning. A year since our entire lives got flipped upside down and inside out, and a year since I first discovered what it truly feels like to have your heart obliterated into a billion pieces. A year since I lost my mentor, confidant and T's Gramps.

And in that year, the pain has not subsided. Time has not healed this wound. On the outside, I may seem more together than I was a year ago, but on the inside I am sad. Really, really sad. I really, really miss him. More than I can ever describe or put in to words. I miss him so hard that it physically hurts, like I can't catch my breath.

I wish with every ounce that I am that he was still here. Still here to see his first grandkid grow up. Still here to be my go to guy when I was flustered about a life decision. And most importantly, still here to grow old with my mom.

And because I have so much left to say to him, I had to write it down.



Dear Daddy,

First of all, I know that wherever you are you are surrounded by those that we have loved. I know we aren't very religious, but I have to believe that you are in a better place with Gramps, Granny and Auntie Va - Va. That Van Morrison is playing on a loop while the Packers are always Super Bowl Champs and the Leafs won the Stanley Cup (I told you it's a better place!)

I miss you. So much. I have no idea why you had to leave us so early and I don't think I will ever understand but even if I did, I don't think it would take away the pain of never being able to see you again.

This year without you has been pretty tough. Actually, a lot tough. Remember when we were little and stubbed our toe or jammed our finger or incurred some other minor injury? You always told us to count to 10, and by the time we were done, the pain would be gone. That was pretty clever of you, distracting us with that counting thing. But no matter how many times I count to 10, the pain of missing you just won't subside.

I have so much I want to tell you about your grand daughter. I wish you could have met her, even if it was only for a day. She is quite the character, and while she certainly looks a lot like her daddy, those baby blues are all me. Call me crazy, but sometimes when she looks at me, it's like a little piece of you is shining through, reminding me to keep calm and carry on.

I hope I can do as good a job with her as you did with us kids. I promise I will teach her the importance of education, to follow her dreams, and most importantly, family ALWAYS comes first.

I know things wont get easier anytime soon but I promise you Dad, we are sticking together, supporting each other and trying to live our lives as you would want us to.

Love you more Daddy.

xoxo

T's Birth Day. (The first part)

Since I was a little bit late jumping on the whole baby/mommy blogging bandwagon, I figured I might as well start at the beginning of this whole adventure, the day T was born. I guess I could go back even further and talk about my pregnancy, but at the end of the day, who really want's to hear about how much I puked (A LOT), or that I ate my weight in skittles, chocolate milk and root beer?

(Warning: this will be long...  )

T's birth story really begins, for me, 4 days before she was born. My mom had planned on driving down to visit me and do some last minute baby shopping with me on Saturday, November 26, 2011. My due date was December 8th, so I was around 38 weeks at this point, and resembling a small blimp. Throughout the course of the day, my mom started to get concerned that she hadn't heard from my dad at all. This was REALLY unusual for him. He was at their cabin, which is about a 4 hour drive from where we were shopping. At first I didn't think much of it, but after several unreturned text messages and phone calls, I started to get worried. I suggested she phone the neighbour, and ask them to stop in and just check up on him. I knew something was wrong. And not just a little bit wrong, but life changing, earth shattering wrong. And I was right.

My mom dropped me at my house and continued on with her 2 hour drive home, with the promise that she would let me know as soon as she heard anything, either from my dad, or the neighbour. An hour after she left I still hadn't heard anything and was starting to FREAK OUT. I couldn't stop shaking and crying even though I didn't even know if anything was wrong. I finally got a hold of her and she said the words that I had been dreading, praying not to hear, "Your father passed away in his sleep during his afternoon nap." He was 59.

Life changing. Earth shattering. Heart breaking. Can't breath. ugly Ugly UGLY crying.

I found my husband in the barn (this all went down during evening milking, and since I had been on my feet all day, I had the night off) and just collapsed in his arms. We immediately packed and head to my parents home, two hours away.

My dad and I were really close. He always had the answers. It absolutely broke my heart (and still does) that he never got to meet his first grandchild.

To be continued...