Blue Happy Living

Today is my daddy’s birthday. I haven’t got to spend it with him for 31 years. I was almost 7 months pregnant with my first child when he passed away. I was 21 years young and still very much daddy’s little girl.  Greg and I lived at Brooks Air Force Base in San Antonio Texas. I’ll never forget that call, it came in the middle of the night with no warning.

Why and how my daddy died isn’t important. What mattered the most to me was how in the world would I fill such a big hole left in my heart. I had never really had a close family member die. Both sets of my grandparents set next to me at my daddy’s funeral. I can still hear my grandmother say “a mother should never have to bury her child”. She was never the same after that day. Every time I went to visit her after that she had this blank look as if her heart froze on that day.

Heather was born just a few weeks later and I spent that first year trying to learn to be a mommy.  I didn’t realize until years later I never truly grieved over the death of my daddy.  All my life I tucked things away if they hurt me.  I can remember doing that as early at 4 years old.  I would just find things to keep my mind off of my troubles.  Around the time Heather turned one that is when I believe my eating disorder took over me.  I started to control my emotions with food.  Food that made me feel good and food that made me happy.  I soon realized that when I got sad and started to think about my past food made it go away.  So I fed the demon’s of my past.  I fed the pain so it would quite down.

This October it will be 6 years that I started my journey to restore my life.  I’ve had to dig through a lot of deep valleys to clear a new path.  I’ve had to relive and admit what really went down starting at such a young age.  It was ugly and painful and I still have things I just don’t want to deal with.  Today pulls me into one of those funk modes that make me sad and mourn my daddy’s death.  I wish time and time again if only I could tell him things.  All the things he missed out on like my 2 beautiful babies, my successful marriage, me being a teacher, my art coming full circle to build a business that Greg and I work together.  I know he would have been proud and maybe offered advice on all of it.  What I wouldn’t give for just a hug and a moment to tell him I love him.

Death is something we all handle different.  I can’t imagine my grandmothers hurt.  What I do know is my journey has taught me so much about my heart and the hurt I’ve endured.  My faith was always there. Although weak at times it never failed me even in my darkest moments.  I rest in the fact that someday I’ll see my daddy again.  For now I will just remember those good times and how I felt loved by him.  He was a creative soul just like me.  He was a photographer and I’m proud I have a couple of his pieces that have always hung in my home.  My daddy understood me.  He knew I was a “free spirit” and needed to just follow my dreams and be happy.  I wear these every day to remind myself just that.