Day 1 without you Dad

Dad,

It's 11 p.m. and I'm not sure why I'm writing this to you.  Today we found out that you are no longer with us, and our hearts can barely digest the news.  It feels so weird to think that this is not a text message, in which I hit send, and you hit reply.  Nor is this a phone call where I say, "Hey Dad, it's Beth", as if you didn't already know, and you say, "Hey Beth"  You're gone!  I can't believe that you are not here. 

Dad, as if the pain was not hard on mom and I as we heard the news after dropping off the girls at school, but it was even harder to tell the girls.  They love you so much and miss you already!  They wanted to say good-bye.  You and Katie had a rock field trip next month and you didn't get to see her arrowhead.  Dad, we were supposed to ride back from Tuscon to Silver City together from the airport.  Remember?  I just told you yesterday how I was looking forward to that trip and I told you to prepare yourself because, "I have lots of questions", and you replied, "Yes, I know you do.  You always do."  We even reminisced about the day you took me to try out for "Deal or No Deal". 

I am without words.  I need to write to you, as if in some weird way, you could write back.  How can death be so final?  How are we supposed to pick up the shattered pieces of sadness and make them whole again?  What do we do with reappearing memories of your face?  Or memories of being together?  Memories are supposed to make you feel better, but they hurt me.  They remind me of what we had and what we will never have again. 

Dad, Christmas was so wonderful.  I loved seeing you.  The girls loved being with you.  Andres loved talking with you.  Dad, he left Architecture and is now in your industry!!!!!!  How do we deal with that?  Before, we would've never have seen a mine, but now it's our livelihood.  And now you're not here to be apart of that?  This was your whole life, mining, and now that we have to live and breathe it, you're not here?  We just moved here a month ago.  And now you're gone? 

My heart is crushed and Katie has so many questions.  She sat on her Daddy's knee and has so many questions.  Brianne thought we were lying to her because it just doesn't feel real.  It didn't hit her until later in the evening and then she bursted out into painful tears. 

And there's Mom.  Dad, Mom is broken, crushed, and yet she knows.  She knows that the Lord is with her and with us.  She knows you are whole, complete and without any pain.  You can run through the fields of grace, and hold onto the hand that gave you life.  You can see Nichole, as a complete and whole person, and then there's Grandpa George and Papa Mike.

Where do we go from here?  Josh is on his way with Andres from El Paso Airport, my in-laws are with us, and the house keeps getting more and more full.  But you're not here.  Oh Dad, I don't want to stop writing to you because I know that when I close out this post and shut down the computer, I have to go to sleep and then I have to wake up.

I love you, and I miss you! 

Beth