As I sit and drink my morning coffee, I stare out the window at the blue birdhouse he and Tyrus made together. It hangs there on the little tree in front of our house. We actually live in the house he helped to raise Ian in. When Ian was a boy, they played catch everyday across the street at the park. Everywhere I look- I’m reminded-the cabinets he built for our kitchen, the storage he built and helped install over our washer and dryer, the Lego table filled with books in Tyrus’ room, the wooden airplane he made that Boog constantly chews on, the traxxas truck he repaired so many times for Tyrus. Our little home has been shaped by him and reminds us every moment. I see him in Ian-the way he walks, his hands, his sense of humor, crazy quick wit and so much more.
He was at almost every game Tyrus has ever had, from TBall to competitive traveling ball, basketball, flag football, you name it. Just the other day, Tyrus’ new glove arrived, he had been almost as excited about it as Ian and Tyrus. I wish he could have seen it.
Man, the what if’s and should haves are all that run through my mind. I want turn back the clock and see him so much more. I wish he and Tyrus would have gotten to play catch one more time. I wish Cy would have gotten to spend as much time with him as Tyrus did. He hadn’t even gone fishing with him yet. I can’t go on because it’s too hard to even type out. It’s just not fair. I should have taken more pictures of him with Ian and the boys.
Throughout all of this I’ve had a really difficult time shaking the feeling of guilt. After all, he wasn’t MY dad. I don’t have a father of my own (I never have), and I think he sort of adopted that role in a way, at least in my mind. If you knew him, you know that he had a special way of making you feel like you belonged and were wanted. He was my friend and Ian’s best friend.
I’ve wanted to be a good support for Ian but I’ve found myself a complete mess myself. I think that’s where the guilty feeling comes from.
I’ve heard there are specific stages of grief that you go through when someone you love dies. I’m gonna call bullshit, considering I bounce from anger to disbelief to pit of your stomach sadness all on a daily basis. I’ve even had times where I’ve forgotten for a split second and pulled out my phone to text him or send him a picture of the boys.
He was Grandpa Terry, Poopaw and Dad and we just miss him so much.
I know that no one can live forever, but, if anyone could, it should have been him.