To the man he'll never know

Today would have been my Dad's 66th birthday. I think every "first" without him is hard and every major life event that he's not here for is bittersweet.

I can't explain how devastating it is for me that Crosby will never know my Dad. Loosing a beloved parent when I was four months pregnant was hard. I constantly focused on the things that would never be. Dad would never hold him. Dad would never take him fishing. Dad would never play silly games with him, sing annoying songs, or foster his imagination in wildly creative make-believe sessions. One of the things I had honestly looked forward to most in my adult life was my babies getting to have a relationship with the man who had shaped who I am and who was responsible for a lot of the good inside of me. Bereavement is painful. Loosing a parent is shitty. But among all of that painful shittyness, there is this: the awful truth that Crosby Lee Smith will never know Sandy Lee Sanders. And Pappy will never know my son.

My dad was surrounded by girls. Besides his brother, all of his immediate family was girls. Dad was loved by his mom, his sister, his wife, all girl nieces, two daughters, two granddaughters and a girl granddog. He lamented the absence of a male but secretly I know he loved being "the man" in so many lives. Three weeks after his death, in an ultrasound room not so far away, I held Lance's hand as my doctor confirmed what I had already thought: Dad's grandson, the first boy in his world, would be entering this world without my dad in it. Bittersweet.

This journey has been so different from the way I envisioned it. The day Crosby was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Second only to the day that I married his Daddy. But, that day of such happiness and celebration was clouded by the thoughts of: "I sure wish my Dad was here." I remember fantasizing about the look he would've had on his face when he first saw Crosby. I longed to see Dad's concerned face for me as well as how ecstatic he would've been to finally have a little boy in his life. He wasn't there to pray with me before labor. He wasn't there to assure me everything would be alright. He wasn't there to meet my little guy and touch him and tell me how perfect he is. He wasn't there to push my hair off my forehead and tell me how proud he was of me. Dad wasn't there on the day Crosby entered into the world and he won't be here for any of the days Crosby walks the earth. Bittersweet.

I have come to know that it's possible to be incredibly happy and overwhelmingly sad at the exact same time. Grief is very painful. It is a constant, never-ceasing pain. Nothing makes it better. It sits on your heart, so heavy, suffocating you. Having a new baby has certainly helped distract me. There are moments of pure happiness. Sometimes I'm able to forget my heart is broken. I have a lot to look forward to. I am so blessed with a wonderful husband and beautiful baby boy. But then I remember Dad is gone. And the remembering brings it all back, like a huge wave of pain that takes your breath away. I'm told that time will heal this. That it won't always be so raw. And I believe that to be true. But the truth that my dad and my son will never meet will always linger, weighing on my heart.

I can't feel my Dad's presence and I want to so badly. I don't see things that could be him like butterflies or rainbows. I don't feel an angel watching over me or a breeze that is his reassurance. Mostly I just feel that he is far, far away. I believe that he is there, observing and protecting, I just can't feel it. I know that I can tell Crosby about my Dad and share stories with him. I know that I can do things to keep his memory alive. It's just not the same. Stories and photos don't replace relationships and experiences. They don't even come close.

I suppose I'll just have settle for appreciating the time I had with Dad. Afterall, he knew I was pregnant and he was so excited. I am thankful for that. He really was the best father a girl could ask for. I am so grateful he was mine. Maybe the quickest way to realize the love and sacrifices our parents made for us is to become parents ourselves. When I look at my sweet boy and my heart is exploding, I finalllllly get just HOW much my Momma and Dad love me. I mean, I know they love me but goodness gracious! It's just bittersweet that I get the opportunity to come to this realization after my Dad is gone.

It's my wish that I can be as good of a parent to Crosby that my Dad was to me. It's my wish that Crosby and I will have the kind of relationship Dad and I had.

Happy birthday, Daddy. Happy birthday from the family that misses you so much. And, happy birthday from Crosby, the coolest little dude, that you will never know.

I love you. To the moon. And back.

-Your Princess

Veteran's Day 2013