A Solid Foundation.

Hey Dad,

I’m going to skip a lot of the hard parts; I replayed them on a loop for years and we aren’t there anymore. It’s hard to write this through the tears welling up in my eyes. There is so much I want to say even though I talk to you every day. I have to get ready for work so this will be short.

Today the house goes into auction. I say the house and not our home for two reasons, it helps me to create some distance emotionally and secondly… I have learned to build a home inside of me. One that cannot be taken. A solid foundation where my soul can rest when needed. I built it with parts of you and all the people who I’ve had the privilege of loving. Mostly I built it with things I found inside that I never knew I had. With the love I have for myself. Grit. Resilience. Peace. Perseverance. Humility. Fierce determination. Compassion. Forgiveness…. And the weird little things about me that always made you laugh (even when you thought I didn’t see you laugh because parents aren’t supposed to laugh at certain things lol)

The other night I drove across town to watch the sunset one last time from the back porch. The house was empty, and nobody was home.... the only furniture left was your old spot. It's been three years, and it still has the creases from the way you always sat. That house and I grew up together, your love and hard work put into all the best parts... the hand-made cabinets, oak railing, floorboards, bay window, late nights at the kitchen table helping me with math homework, loud Thanksgiving dinners, broken hearts, belly laughs and so much more. I will carry it with me always.

I started writing this because I know that the night you were intubated, they facetimed me. I promised you I would take care of everything. I will never forget the look in your eyes. You needed me to say it because you couldn’t speak, so I said...

“Yes Dad, I will tell them you love them. You get some rest now. I got it from here."

Only after you knew I understood to tell them how much you loved them did you allow yourself to relax. You slide into the bed like butter melting in a skillet. You were tired. You were scared, and even if I didn’t show it so was I.

For some reason, I fought hard to keep that house. You built so much of it with your hands, and you raised us girls there. You worked so hard for what some people may think wasn’t much at all. I now realize it is not the house that matters. It’s the other stuff.

I’ve kept all that safe and we’ve even grown it too. I know I didn’t keep the promise in the way I thought you needed me too, but I think I did okay Dad. I think I have and continue to take care of (and them for me as well) the things that mattered most to you. The reasons why you worked so hard and loved so much.

I miss you more than words. Here’s to new adventures.

I love you always. Be Good and I'll do my best down here.