Dear Dad, It’s been one year and one month since you are gone. According to Google that’s 9490.01 hours but to me it feels like an eternity. I still wake up in the morning thinking this is a nightmare and you’re not really gone. At night I look at the sky and make a wish on the brightest star I see and I believe it is you. When I was young you told me we grieve for ourselves because the deceased are in a better place. As a woman, I know that is true, but I still miss you terribly. For seven years I watched you endure horrific pain. I prayed and pleaded with God to heal you. Towards the end of your life I was so angry that my prayers were not answered. You were not supposed to die unable to eat; it seemed like such a cruel death sentence for such a good man. When you died my grief became so overwhelming and suffocating that on numerous occasions I was convinced that I too was dying. My heart was so heavy and the pain was unbearable. You played a major role in my life and now you were gone. For my entire existence we spoke every single day, even when I was away in college. That’s 40 years of saying “I love you”, 40 years of being a Daddy’s girl, 40 years of feeling safe, 40 years pure, unconditional love. And now just like that you were gone. Would I ever smile again? Watching Mom mourn you is unbearable, there are times I’m certain I can hear the sounds of her heart breaking. I watched Mom selflessly care for you throughout your marriage, but with extra care the past seven years. So much that it was not uncommon for you to shout to the doctors that you were alive because of Mom. As your health began to fail, Mom was the one breathing life into you each day. I will never forget how your eyes would light up with joy when Mom entered the room. You and Mom showed me what true, unconditional love looks like. Hearing the gut wrenching sounds of Mom mourn you is a heartbreaking, agonizing experience. How do I comfort someone mourning their soulmate when I don’t even know how to comfort myself? The people who I thought were going to be my anchors quickly became the holes in my lifeboat. Complete, utter disappointments. Our family desperately needed kindness, love and support, anything else seemed cruel and unwelcome. Taking a page out of your book I chose to break ties and ignore. One of the greatest lessons you taught me is to quiet a fool with silence. Unfortunately death brings out quite a few fools. But you prepared me for this. From teaching me how to walk, to throw a ball, even to dance while standing on top of your feet, you showed me ways to stand on my own two feet. A dad’s job is not only to protect his little girl, but also to show her how to defend herself when, one day, he is not around. You were the biggest influence in my life. A father is the one who guides his daughter through life, and now even in death you are guiding me. You are constantly showing me that love never dies. You speak to me through feathers, music and if I listen closely I can still hear your sweet voice. Your death has been a mysterious doorway with so much painful grieving for me. Heartache that I never knew was possible and mysterious because I never know how or when that door is going to open and pull me in. It’s been a full year and one month since your death you are still opening that door comforting me. Sometimes it is gut wrenching pain, like the other day when Josh Groban’s“Your Raise Me Up” came on in the store and I felt a faint brush on my cheek. I KNEW it was you and started sobbing in the middle of Stop and Shop. Or when I’m driving to work in the morning and I can smell you, and for a moment I can feel you sitting next to me in the car. Or when a beautiful fluffy white feather crosses my path, and I smile because I know it’s you sending me love from above. Since you have passed I have found enough feathers to build my own angel wings and visit you in heaven.