Five Minute Friday: Last

 

Last.

 

I didn't know it would be the last time I got to talk to him.

I didn't know it would be the last time I told him I loved him.

I didn't know it would be the last time I hugged him.

I didn't know it would be the last time I saw his smile.
I didn't know it would be the last time I heard his laugh.

 

I didn't know I was about to enter into a world where last defined my relationship with my dad. Saturday will be 17 years since I said my last goodbyes to my dad. It was a horrible, freak accident that took him from my family too soon. He was young, happy, alive. And then he wasn't.

 

I still remember being there when his last breath left his body. When his heart beat for the last time. When the last sparks of his life faded away. I remember every tear, every sound, every color in the room. I remember the pain on my step-mom's face, but the bravery there, too. I remember being held by my mom, tears falling down her own face. I remember wanting, more than anything for this to not be the last time.

 

I have the last card he wrote me still. It is surrounded by my two favorite pictures of my dad - his senior year of high school and shortly before he died. His handwriting is still familiar and  I can still hear his laughter and influence in the way my siblings talk, in the way they live their lives, in the passions they have. He lives on in the lives we all live, but some days the lasts are the things I remember the most.

 

I will miss him always, I will love him until the stars fade from the sky. I will regret the firsts he never got to experience with us, and I will cherish those last memories, good and bad, for as long as I live.

 

I hope beyond hope that in his last moments, he knew he was loved, knew he was surrounded by those who knew him best, and knew that with his last breath, he was telling us that he loved us, too.

 

 

 

 

I miss you, dad. More than you know.

 

Love,