There's just so much that time cannot erase.
I have never grown out of the phase of thinking my Papa is a superhero.
When I was really small, visiting him was the highlight of my week. It was like holidays and vacation, we would go on adventures together, ride ponies, feed deer, climb mountains, swam lakes and most of all he let me be myself.
Later on we had phases when I didn't visit him as often, but everytime I was with him I felt understood, not what I said but who I was, he just ~got me. He was my home and my anchor.
Today it has been two years since he died.
My lighthouse to which I could always turn to give me direction and lead the way is gone and I feel so lost without him. I saw this man fight and lose a battle we knew we couldn't win. But even in his last days, he was always smiling, so I wouldn't worry. Always the superhero.
Grief is something you are never prepared for. It haunts you and stays with you, even now tiny things trigger it and suddenly it just hurts, hurts, hurts. But grief is also a blessing, it shows me how deeply I will always love him, grief helps me keep memories, it inspires me to try my best to make Dad proud, it makes me thankful for every second I had with him, makes me realize how much of his spirit I carry with me.
I will never stop grieving and it will never stop hurting.
But my Papa gave me the strength to accept and embrace the feelings as they come.
Whenever I miss him, I think of his smile and how it would light up the room for me.
It still does.
My home and my anchor forever.