L.O.V.E.

I love my dad.

I love being his daughter.

I love traveling with him. All of our roadtrips, vacations in Hawaii, visiting family in California and Utah, my 16th birthday (just the 2 of us) in San Francisco, camping together… so many amazing memories made.

I love that he taught me how to ride a bike by holding on to the back of my seat and running with me for hours. Then later did the same for both Tyler and Jackson.

I love the memories of standing on his feet and dancing in our living room listening to vynol records of Nat King Cole.

I love that he married my 6th grade teacher and was nervous to tell me that they had been dating.

I love how involved he has always been with his 3 children.

I love how he believes that each one of his children are absolutely perfect.

I love his hugs.

I love how whenever he buys a shirt or a coat it quickly becomes "the Shirt," or "the coat" and he doesn't take it off until it smells.

I love that he is a goofy dancer despite marrying a dance studio owner.

I love that he took me prom dress shopping not once but twice in downtown and sat and ooed and awed as I tried on dress after dress.

I love his nicknames for everyone. Mine being Whitty, Whitster or Princess.

I love it when people tell me I look like him.

I love him as a coach.

I love his facial expressions.

I love his voice.

I love his "wayneisms"- "Working hard or hardly working." or "Oh my gosh, you think so? Why do you say that?" when he's fishing for more compliments.

I love that he roots for the Cougs and proudly wears his WSU hat living so close to UW.

I love that he wears t-shirts, hats and pants until they literally disintegrate.

I love that he made it possible for me to attend every WSU football game home and away my senior year of college and made it a point to be there with me 90% of the time.

I love his competitiveness… every single one of his children has inherited it.

I love the way he cooks.

I love the way he likes to teases the people he loves.

I love that he loves my husband more than just an in-law.

I love his "c-chippers." Best chocolate chip cookies in the world.

I love the way he can laugh at me and calm me down when I'm wound a little too tightly.

I love that he puts catsup on his eggs and macaroni and cheese.

I love his advice.

I love that he doesn't waste milk when eating a bowl of cereal and makes it a big debate when others do.

I love what a proud father and grandpa he is. Always boasting about one of his children or grandchildren.

I love his sense of humor.

I love the numerous times he has taken Jordyn to dance class and proudly participated with her, then rewarded her with goldfish crackers in the end.

I love it when people tell me that my son looks like him.

I love it when he tells me how my children like to be held, fed, burped, sung to and is only half joking assuming that he knows them better than me.

I love his honesty, even when I disagree.

I love how we can sit in silence and just be together.

I love his strength… he is a fighter by nature.

Missing Dad

Everything feels like it is moving so fast these days. There is never enough time. The last few months have been a whirlwind, and sometimes just stepping outside takes my breath away. It's hard to put the feeling into words, but seeing families busy, smiling and going about life has been tough. It reminds me of the fog I have been in, how disconnected I have felt. Watching cancer take my father from me, while raising my two young children, reconnecting with my husband and trying to celebrate the holidays has left my brain and heart in a daze. It feels like life is stuck on fast forward. I look at Jordyn and Isaac and think where have the last few months gone? How have they changed and grown so much? I spend all day every day with my babies, but it still feels like I'm missing out sometimes. I'm afraid I haven't taken the time to enjoy each day with them and soak up every little stage of their lives. Life has just been so busy... I feel like I've barely had a chance to talk to my husband about anything other than, "Did you remember to take the garbage out?" Where has all the time gone?

It is so bittersweet watching Jordyn and Isaac grow up. I can't believe how big they are getting. Jordyn is running, jumping, talking, singing, dancing, counting and so many other things. She is my crazy, beautiful, emotional and independent little lady. Isaac is now crawling like a champ, cruising on furniture and eating Cherrios all on his own. He is my determined, chubby, sweet and heart melting little man. Together, they are the reason I get up in the morning. I don't feel like I've been completely present for them the last few months, I haven't stopped to take in all the amazing things about them. The last few months I haven't been the mom that I want to be... I've been in survival mode. They deserve more of me. They keep me going even on my darkest days. Without them, I don't think I would have made it through the holidays this year. Sometimes I just sit in stare at them. They are so innocent. They don't know about all the stresses in the world. Neither of them understand what has happened to Grandpa, or where he has gone. They deserve to grow up knowing their Grandpa. A Grandpa who was always well equipped with "fishy crackers," funny faces and the willingness to participate in a parent tot dance class with his silly granddaughter.

Christmas was rough this year. It was beautiful to see the joy on my (almost) 3 year old's face when she realized that Santa had come, so much fun this year with her understanding of Christmas. At the same time it was so tough to see presents under the tree that were intended for my dad to open. Presents that were discussed with him while he was alive, getting his opinion on things and knowing that there was a chance he wouldn't make it until Christmas day. Remembering those conversations and knowing that there wouldn't be any more like them, missing him so much that at times it was hard to breathe. Even tougher was later in the day opening presents from him, presents that he helped pick out but that I wouldn't be able to thank him for. But the toughest was just the feeling of this being the first Christmas without him.

Dad passed away just after 11 pm on December 16th after his 2.5 year battle with cancer. I had just left his house at about 9:30 pm that night and took an extra long time saying goodbye that night. I knew that there was a good chance that it would be my last goodbye. He had become unresponsive the night before but I believe that he was able to hear me tell him what an amazing Dad he is and how much I love him. The tears streamed down my face as I told him that I would take care of my little brothers and step-mom and that it was okay to let go. My body trembled as I hugged him for a very long time. I wish so badly that he could have hugged back like the night before. As I walked out of the room it didn't feel real, much like many of the moments along this journey with him. I don't know how time moved so quickly from the moment we were given his prognosis to then. 2.5 years had gone by in the blink of an eye.

The last few weeks have been full of planning his memorial, grieving for him, and finding the energy to prepare for and celebrate Christmas. My brain hasn't yet had the chance to untangle the mess that my heart is in, and I don't know that I'm ready for it to either. I have purposefully kept myself busy because I don't know that I'm ready all for those feelings just yet. I get an unwelcomed taste of that sadness at night after everyone in my house has gone to sleep and time slows down for just a bit. That's when the tears have a chance to readily fall. It can be therapeutic and painful all at the same time. I miss him so much. I know that over time, things will get better, but oddly enough that is the only instance in which time is moving slowly these days.