A Jumble

This is where I come back from one of my disappearing acts.
Trust me, I needed this one.

We lost my Daddy on July 6.

I still feel so incredibly lost sometimes. Like, how is this even real?
How is he gone?
My Dad was always larger than life to me. He could do anything, fix anything. He was my hero. Still is.
Two days before he died, Dad told me, "I'm leaving. I love you guys."
I can still hear him saying "Odchodze" (I'm leaving).

When my friend Ms. Lora died, I knew she would die. But I was still unprepared.

Unprepared is the understatement of the century when it comes to how I feel about Dad being gone. I find myself thinking about two years ago, when Ella and I went to visit him and Mom. I think about joking around with Dad about stupid things and getting the grand tour of the neighborhood and then remembering that he is GONE and I will not have those conversations with him again and it's like I'm being hit by a truck every single time.

And I know that where he is now, there is no more pain, no more cancer, no more sickness. Dad is whole and healthy and reunited with his parents and his older brother. My babies in heaven have met their Pop Pop and that must be so beautiful.

And as much as it hurts to be here, and be Dad-less, I know I'm really NOT Dad-less. Because he's always here. Every time I say something to make my kids laugh, I know Dad's there. Every time I fix some household item, I know Dad's there. Every time I play gypsy music for the girls, I know he's there. Since the day he died, I've been seeing blue butterflies everywhere.

I'm trying. I've wanted to sit down and write a blog about this or that and make my way seamlessly back.
But I couldn't. Not without writing about Dad.

Because I owe him at least this.
At least.