April 30, 2019
Hey Daddy,
It’s almost May and we’ll be having a wedding soon. Yep, it’s hard to believe, but Amanda still wants to marry Matt. Good thing too, since he’ll need someone to keep him in line. There was a wedding shower last weekend and I went back for a visit. Mom is doing okay but you know that it’s still hard being alone at the house. She’s been spring cleaning and painting and trying to freshen up the place. Briley dog is not coping with the changes very well. She’s holding a grudge because mom moved the recliner. Ha! Mom found one of your old fishing hats in your car and gave it to me to keep. Briley smelled it and got real excited! Its dirty and sweat-stained and must smell just like she remembers you. I’m keeping it where I can see it all the time, as a reminder of the good times you and I spent on the water. One of these days I’ll get back out there. I’m doing okay, just so you know. Taking it one day at time. Left foot, right foot, breath, repeat.
Love you,
Tiff
***
April 12, 2019
Hey dad,
I was driving home yesterday and I realized that I’ve now gone well beyond the longest period in my life without having spoken to you. I just wanted you to know I can still hear your voice. I can hear you cracking jokes and laughing out loud. I can hear you fussing at the dog in that half-hearted way that always told her you weren’t really mad because she was your buddy. I hope you can hear me too. Hope you’re taking care of yourself in heaven. I’m trying to hold it together down here. Its tough some days but remembering you makes it easier.
Love,
Tiff
***
March 23, 2019
Hey Dad,
Spring is finally here and we’re all doing well. Missing you every day, of course, but we know you’re resting easy now. Mom says Briley is keeping your side of the bed warm. Matt had a beard mishap and I’m pretty sure Amanda considered calling off the wedding. Ha!
I hear that the crappie are biting this time of year at Lake Barkley. You know that was always my favorite lake. Mom says that this summer we might go there and spread some of your ashes. I know just the right spot, the fishing hole where grandaddy always took us first, where you can look up high on the bank and see the cannons at Fort Donelson.
I think of all the places on Earth you’d want to be, it would probably be there. I think about you every time I drive by the water.
I remember when you told me I could have your boat and take it back to Knoxville with me. I couldn’t do it, dad. I couldn’t take it while you were alive. I knew seeing it gone would break your heart and mine, even though you couldn’t use it anymore.
We had so many good times in that boat. Catching fish, eating lunch on the water, following Ritchie and grandaddy up and down the river in their boats as we stopped to drop a line in at all the best fishing holes.
My heart absolutely broke when we lost you but I’m going to be okay, dad. Even on the hard days, I think about you and smile. How blessed I am to be your daughter!
Daddy’s girl, always.
***
March 7, 2019
I debated writing this but I need some catharsis so here you go.
Woke up thinking about my dad during one of those moments where you come out of sleep not knowing what day it is or where you are. For a brief second I thought about the last time I saw my dad and I thought “I haven’t talked to dad in a while. I should maybe call him today!”
Then there was the crushing moment when I realized that he’s been gone almost 3 months. I’m honestly thankful everyday that he is not sick any more, or losing his eyesight and mobility, facing dialysis, or stuck at home unable to drive. As my dad’s health declined over the last 6 months of his life, my mom struggled with working and being a caregiver. I struggled with being so far away when it was obvious how bad things were at home. The last three times I visited during the fall, I left at the end of the weekend crying as I drove out of the neighborhood., not knowing if that might be my last time seeing my dad. I knew that my mom was at her breaking point mentally and emotionally and when we talked, she told me how frustrated she was that no one seemed to understand. She reached out for help, and even her doctor dismissed her depression and emotional overload. So not only was I worried about my dad, I worried about how my mom was going to make it much longer.
So believe me when I say that in a way, I am fully at peace with my dad’s passing. I 100% believe that he wouldn’t haven’t wanted to linger in this life facing blindness, immobility, constant dialysis, and being dependent on my mom, brother, or myself. He spent his life being willing to give the shirt off his back to help people but was just not the kind of man who could abide having to depend on others for basic needs. He was a giver always. I am at peace with his passing in the sense that he is free from the burden of illness and dependence that was so opposite of what he would have wanted from life.
But there is another part of me, the part that is so much like other people who lose loved ones, that hurts and can’t understand why life seems so unfair. I miss my dad. I hate that I can’t be more present for my mom and my brother. Its so difficult not to feel angry that my dad, the best man I ever knew, lived only 59 years when he still had so much heart and happiness left to give. I will always, always wish I had more time with him.
I am blessed with an incredible support system but, just like my dad, I struggle with reaching out to others and leaning on them when I’m having a hard time. I push all this emotion down to avoid putting it onto other people. I’m going to try to stop doing that.
I’ve been doing pretty good at remembering the good times with my dad and that definitely helps. I still need to work on reaching out when I do feel sad and not trying to carrying all this emotion around on my own.
My name is Tiffany and thank you for coming to my TED talk.
TL Lee Writes 