two years down, a lifetime to go

dear dad,

it was the two year anniversary of your departure today.

it's a pretty good benchmarker, an anniversary to evaluate, and appreciate, and recalibrate my trajectory.

your absence is a constant and consistent reminder that everything, the best of things, the worst of things, all of it, will come to an end eventually, and to try to make the most of every moment, of every opportunity, of every chance i am blessed with.

rachel's been a huge help, you and mom taught them well, and they've always been the good kid, while i was the wild child who lived in their own bubble.

rather than wallow in the regret and guilt and shame and pain, i've been reminding myself of the gratitude, of the gifts, and of the ability to do better from this moment onward, wherever "this" moment may be.

it's weird too sometimes, i have to catch myself when i overcompensate. i have all the love you left behind with me, and i want to pour it into all the people around me, but sometimes i am a little oblivious and sometimes i don't know when it's better to wait a little bit or maybe do less until prompted to do more.

finding the balance is the key, and i think you had it pretty down. mom and i found your budget box the other day, we were looking through your dresser. i wish i'd asked you more real questions that you were more ready to answer. i wish i'd realized everything i was missing out on, not really Seeing you and who you were as a three dimensional human being that i could connect to. i do have to caution myself at times, to not be enticed into the pitfalls of glorifying you because you're dead - there were more reasons than just my youthful arrogance and hubris that caused tension between us, and i will not assume all the blame for the things i cannot change.

a living dog is better than a dead lion.

it leaves me wondering though, where do i leave my regrets? we still don't have your ashes, so that level of closure is still yet to come. the living room hasn't changed one bit, and when i close my eyes i can still see your silhouette in your chair. i miss you. i stopped writing to you, because it was too easy and it hurt too much and at some point i'll always want to cry because it could have been this easy if i'd let it be this easy but i didn't and it's because i didn't sit down and really let existence sink in and i tried to live every day like it was my last one. that method only gets you so far if you're not doing it with a grand plan in case tomorrow wasn't your last day.

anyways, that's all to say. i miss you, today a little extra.

rachel's been taking great care of mom and me, and they're teaching me how to do it too. we're finally a bit closer to the family you'd always wanted us to be, and i know you'd be proud of how far we've come.

i just wish you were here to enjoy it with us.

i'll always be julie to you.

-julie