today

6 months ago today my heart was broken.
6 months ago my dad died.

I will never forget (although I wish I could) the frantic phone call at 4 am from my mom. Driving to my parents house, calling my brother and telling him to get to the hospital. Begging God not to take him. Calling my best friend and leaving a message on her answering machine. Holding my little sister. My mom calling to tell me he was gone and to call their pastor. Crying on the kitchen floor. Having to tell my sister that dad was dead. My husband hugging me. My son looking at me. Driving with my parent's pastor and his wife to the hospital. Seeing my dad lying in that bed. Repeating dad over and over again. Thinking he looked like he should just wake up. Not wanting to ever leave him.

I was the last person to leave the room. It was so hard to walk away knowing that I wouldn't see him again.

He had just joked around with me two days before in the hospital. He'd had a routine surgery and my husband and I went to visit. We laughed about a Jeep he had secretly bought and not told my mom about. I was pregnant and the baby was kicking like crazy. I got my dad some ice to eat. I promised I would make him some banana walnut muffins for when he got home. He hadn't eaten for days and was dreaming about an A&W burger. Gave him some vaseline to put on his nose because it was so hot and dry in the room. Gave him a hug and a kiss and walked out. not having the slightest clue that this would be the last time I would get to do those things.
My daughter never got to meet my dad. My son will only have faint memories of him, even though they were very close. My sister won't have her dad for the hardest part of her growing up years. My brother lost the biggest influence in his life. My mom lost her best friend. My husband lost one like a father to him, and his joking buddy (they had the same sense of humor). My nieces and nephew lost their Grandpa who actually got down on the floor to play. I lost my hero, the one who could do anything, knew everything and would do anything for me.
Six months goes by very fast. But very slow. So much has happened but it feels like I just saw him yesterday and he should be calling me to tell me what else I should be doing with my house or to ask me a question or to listen to the latest antic my son had pulled. Most days I still don't believe it. Every morning I have to remind myself that he's gone. Every morning it's like a kick in the face when I realize I won't be seeing him again. Every morning I wish things were different. Some days are easier than others. Keeping busy is a good thing. Looking at my daughter's smiles and listening to my son singing remind me that life is good. But it is still hard.
My heart is healing slowly but surely.