Letter 7- "Begginnings and Endings"

Dad, I turned 17 without you.
We had Thanksgiving without you.
It's December the 10th, and in 15 days we'll Christmas without you.
And New Years and Easter and Valentines Day, and a forever of birthdays without you.

How is this even possible? Most days I feel normal, happy average..
But there are still moments where I'm entirely shocked that I've become "that" girl.
The girl whose dad died, the girl who can't ever cry in public again.
It's so unfair.
Why can't I just have you back?
Your daughter.

Letter #6- Dreams

Dad,
You have to come back now. School is going to start soon and you have to seem me become a Junior in High School. I know, you weren't here for most of my First Days but still. You were here, in this world, loving me.
I grieve in my dreams, Daddy. I talk about you in reality with a smile and I resent anyone, anything, that makes me feel emotion. I avoid that deep, dark, sadness that threatens me with it's appereance. But at night..
I dream of you. In a hundred different ways so far.
Sometimes you're still alive and I beg you not to go to that far away place and die.
Sometimes you're already gone and I ask you about all these secret you've left behind.
Everytime, though, I realize it's my fault.
It's my fault you're dead.

But I cry only in my dreams.
To cry for real, in the world, in this reality..it hurts too bad.
But in my dreams I bawl, and scream, and let the tears just flow that need to flow..
People ask me where these black circles under my eyes came from.
It's because I dream of you. Every night.

see you soon.

Letter #5- Last Chance

Dear Daddy,
Why didn't you listen to me? I called you the day before. I told you that..that dream, if that's what it was, and you promised- you promised- that you were coming back. But you didn't. And I was the last person on this Earth to talk to you. And God, I hate myself for that. Out of everyone in the world why did I get to be the last? What made me the right person to deserve to have that last conversation. And I know all my brothers resent that I was. And Uncle Jess does too. And Aunt Nette. And especially Mom. She says she's so happy I got to talk to you, but I see it in her eyes- "Why not me?"
And I had that chance to save you. And I tried. But I should have tried harder. For Momma. For my brothers. If I had tried harder they wouldn't have this atrocious pain. I could have saved them by saving you.
But I didn't.
And I'll never forget that it's all my fault. I robbed you of this Earth when I could have given it to you.
My God, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry to everyone.
If they knew they would hate me.
Like I hate myself.
Your daughter.
PS- I dyed some of my hair blue. You'd hate it.

Letter #4- Impossible

Dear Daddy,
I've been trying, you know I have. But I can't go on like this. I can't go on missing you this badly everyday for the rest of my life. In my dreams you hold me like you used to and I find relief. But when my eyes open and I breathe in my heart aches like I didn't know it could. I feel like everyday I get better and worse. Everyday hurts more on the inside, but looks better on the outside. I'm such a fraud.
I just want you to be here again. Right now. Please.
Just to see you. To see your face. I wanna be your little girl again.
I just can't go on like this.
And everyday pulls me further and further away from the time when you were alive.
I miss you.
Your daughter.

Letter #3- Crash

I take it back. Anything I've ever said about everything.
I take it all back.
It has finally set in and I can't.
I just can't.
My world crashed down.
I can't do this.
How the fuck does anyone do this?
It chokes me, sucks the air right out.
I can't handle this.
I've got to do something, anything.
Something drastic.
I wanna smoke I wanna drink I wanna cut off all my hair.
I can't do this.
Where the hell have all my oxygen and courage gone?

Dear Daddy,
You can't go. Come back. Please, oh God please. Anything, I swear anything. Just come back. Be alive. Talk to me, hold me. I still need you. You're missing all my best years and all my minuscule moments. I can't do this without you. You were supposed to stay forever: my big strong daddy.
How can you just go like that?
Your daughter.

Letter #2- Spirit

Dear Dad,
This sucks so bad.
Sometimes I want to just come home and see you in your chair. I want to sit down and have you drill me about my day and I want to tell you all the smart ass things I said and make you smile. It's like you're still here and I'll just walk through the door and there you'll be and there I'll be and everything will be normal. And it sets in a little bit more everyday that you're gone.

I wish I could ask you things and hear what sarcastic comment you have to say. That's been the worst. Not getting to talk to you or be around you and just have the advantage of being in your presence. I told my counselor that I couldn't remember your presence. I could remember your voice, your face, your laugh but not you actual being. It's hard to explain. And she just looked at me. A single tear slid down her face, the first one I had seen from her and she said,

"You won't remember it, honey. You'll have pictures and videos but you'll never have his aura or presence or spirit ever again because it's gone. It's gone from this world forever."


God, that's so horrible.

Letter #1- Cinderella

My counselor told me to do this. She said if I wrote down memories of him that I could always remember him, his voice, his smell, his being. Like words on a computer screen could really represent everything he was to me. As if commas and apostrophes could actually keep him alive in my mind, could bring him back.
And He's never coming back. Period. End of story. Cue credits and dramatic music.
But honestly, it doesn't feel that way.
How could someone who was once here be gone in a second.
How is that possible?
Someone so valid, so real..he's a memory and that's it. Nothing more.
Presently I'm in stage number one: denial.
It's kinda of pleasant in a twisted way. I still have this hope that he could still be out there. That maybe they found some other person's body in that far away place. It can't be him, it just can't. And I won't accept it, I just won't.
Death is just so incomprehensible.
But the point of this, at least for me, not my counselor, is that I want to feel like I'm talking to him. Like I'm writing this and he'll read it and smirk at me when he's finished. Like he always did..

Dear Daddy,
I took your Steven Curtis Chapman CD yesterday. Hope you don't mind. You always were taking my CD's so I figured just one wouldn't hurt. Especially not this one. And I know I laughed at you when sang that Cinderella song to me with tears in your eyes but I thought you should know I laughed because I didn't want you to see how deeply it touched me. I could see in your face how much you loved me and for some reason I couldn't let you see how badly I needed you. And I remember that face in my dark moments when I miss you so much my chest aches. Your eyes were closed and your hand was patting your thigh offbeat. Tears slid down your cheeks as you sang me lyrics about me being Cinderella and going to the ball and meeting Prince Charming. I remember you crying because you loved me so much.
And when I heard that song on the way to school I felt a crack reverberate down my heart. There's this line where Mr. Chapman sings, "and the clock will strike midnight and she'll be gone.."
Neither of us had any idea you would be the one to leave when the clock struck 12.
But I would give anything for one more hour with you, one more dance.
Your daughter.