Father’s Day


Today I miss both my father and watching the father my husband was to our daughter.  I hope my dad is watching over my little girl now.  That he’s taking her and her friends out for ice cream and to car shows.  I hope he tells them how he once let a litter of kittens live in the trunk of the ’66 Mustang he was restoring because he didn’t have the heart to kick them out.  I hope they watch movies together and he’s teaching her to draw.  I often wonder what life would look like if they were both here.  He would have loved her.  Delicately held her–afraid she’d break. I wonder if he left us so soon because he had to be ready for her somewhere else.

I saw my dad in a new light when Zoey came to us.  My dad and I were close, but watching a dad with his daughter from the outside was a new experience for me.  I was always a little jealous of the way Zoey looked at Joe.  Like she was in awe of him.  I could see the love radiating between those two and I wonder if that’s how I looked at my dad when I was little.  And Joe adored her—still adores her.  I’m lucky to have him as the father of our daughter.

I know we grieve differently.  I want to post photos so I can hear people mention her.  So others can see the love they share.  And I want a  thousand reminders of her around me– anchors and butterflies and turtles.  But I know it hurts him.  We’re in different places.  Most times I look at the photos and smile (not every day-some days looking through her albums is just too much).  But I don’t think he’s there yet.  So we hurt each other with how we grieve even though it’s unintentional. We’re still learning to walk this road together.  And I hope that someday he can look at those pictures and see what I see: a bond between a daddy and his baby girl.  The one that had him wrapped around her tiny little finger from the moment she arrived into the world. I know he feels it. I know he misses her. I know it hurts.  But they love each other.  A bond that stretches between heaven and earth.

Dad, please watch over my little baby bird until I see you both again.  Wrap your arms around her. Share inside jokes and offer her Tang sandwiches.  I love you both. I miss you both, but I’m glad you’re together.


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