Dear Dad

I was working on my honeymoon blog, but after watching the newest episode of “This Is Us” and thinking a lot about my life. I decided it was time to talk about something a bit more personal. I don’t want to get into the whole story today, but my dad is not in the best health. He is still physically with us, but he is not mentally here. He has missed out on quite a lot over the last 3 years (since the official diagnosis).

I had been writing letters to my dad and keeping them in a safe place, but while cleaning out and unpacking wedding gifts, they have been misplaced. I am not going to let that happen again, so I am going to devote a post to that topic every now and then. So, here we go…


Dear Dad,

This is the first letter I am writing to you as a stranger. Not because you don’t know who I am, but because I am officially a married woman. Yep, it finally happened! Andrew and I got married. I know you called that a long time ago, but now you can officially call him your son-in-law.

It was weird having that day without you. When I pictured my wedding as a kid, I never thought there would be a version of that without you there. Phillip giving me away wasn’t weird, but I am always going to wish that it could have been you.

There was a moment before the ceremony where everyone was walking in where I really wanted you to be there. I was waiting for Phillip to come back to the bride’s room and walk me over the the chapel, so I could make my grand entrance. I was nervous, and I just wanted you to hold my hand and tell me that you weren’t going to let me trip and that I looked beautiful. Even if my heels made me the same height as you and “made me look like a stripper” (*insert the teenage eye roll at the memory of you judging every pair of heels I have purchased since age 16*). 

But you did not come. My wedding went as planned (well, as according to plan as it could with a hurricane heading straight towards us). I married the love of my life in front of almost everyone I love.

I keep thinking that one day it won’t hurt so much. I envision that I will be able to talk about you without having to remind myself that you aren’t really here. I keep thinking that I can call the house one day, and I will get you to answer the phone and tell me how much you miss me.

I long for a day when you answer the phone and call me “sweetie” again.

But for now, I will hang on to the 22 years of memories I have of you, and keep living in denial of our reality.

I will always be your little girl, and I will always love and miss you with all my heart.

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