11 years.

If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to Heaven and bring you back again.

March 22, 2000. I remember the exact spot I was when I heard the news, but you bet I didn't believe it. I was in third grade, Mrs. Fillians class. We were in the cafeteria eating breakfast. I had just eaten my two toasts when one of my friends/cousins walked up to tell me that my Dad had died. I was upset that she would have the nerve to do that in front of everyone. I cried. A few hours later my Mom pulled us out of school.. that's when I knew it was real. We got in the car, she said she had something to tell us. I sat there with my arms folded and quietly said, "I already know." I wanted to go see him the night before but my Mom said it wasn't a good idea. It was a few nights before that I had seen and talked to him for the last time. I can still picture him laying in the hospital bed.. I could hardly understand him but he managed to say "I love you". It's crazy that some of my fondest memories are of me being my Dad's little nurse. Even though I don't recall him ever being not sick, he was always the BEST Dad in the world. If we wanted to go fishing every day, he'd take us. He walked us to school. He banged pots and pans together and danced with us on Saturday mornings while Mom cooked breakfast. He sat down to do homework with us every day after school. He snuggled with me. He did my hair for my dance performances. He took us to baseball/softball, basketball, football. Whatever it was, he took us and stayed the entire time. He would be the most amazing Papa. When I'm going through hard times, I think of him and how I just know he would be there to support me right now...

I miss him and hope he is looking down here, proudly, with a smile on his face. XoXo Daddy.