Dad's Birthday

Sean,

Today was my dad's birthday. We went over to the LeVon's for a bbq to celebrate, and we had a good time. It was our typical Jew/LeVon get-together. I missed you terribly though. It wasn't a family celebration without you there. Is it weird that I can feel you not being there? I sense it. I'm aware of it. Is it strange to be aware of something that is absent? People tell me all the time that you're there with me "in spirit" and I don't know what to think about that. I know that half of them actually believe it and half of them just want to comfort me by telling me that you'll always be with me, but I'm not sure what I believe. You're in Heaven now, which is a place that I don't think that I'd be able to pull myself away from for even a moment, so I wonder if that's what you're experiencing. Sometimes, though, I can sense you. It's like I'll catch a scent of you in the air or I'll feel a slight chill on the back of my neck and my mind will snap to you. It's mostly just memories and thoughts that flit in and out, and I can't explain it better than that.

I think everyone that was there tonight sensed that something was missing. You always brought a distinctive livelihood to the gatherings that we had. You were so loved by the LeVon family and you fit right in with all of the quirkiness that our two families had grown so comfortable with over many many years of friendship. That hole in my soul that has plagued me since you left seems to get bigger and bigger every day. Little pieces of me die every time I think of you and then remember that you're gone. I don't care what people say, as much as I love our daughters, even they will not heal that wound. Just because God is blessing me with children who I know will have an amazing place in my life, it doesn't mean that they will make me forget that you're not here or that they will heal my soul and make my life meaningful in the way you made it. If anything, our children will be forever robbed of a piece of me that died when you did, and I'm sorry I can't give that to them, but I'm glad that you own it, because it's all for you anyway. I'll always have enough love for both of them and I'll always work hard every day to give them the greatest life they could possibly have. But when I say nothing will ever fill the Sean-shaped hole in my heart, that includes our children.

I don't know how long I'll hurt for or if I'll ever stop feeling like this. Right now there's no end in sight, and I know it's still early on, but part of me doesn't want to heal. Part of me feels like when everything is okay, I'll have left you behind, and what we had will be less meaningful. The bigger part of me knows that what we had was indescribable. I've always said that you and I truly shared a lifetime of love in just a few short years, and I'll believe that until the day I die. It's just not fair that our time together was cut so short when there are so many marriages and relationships out there in this world that have such little meaning behind them. We meant everything to each other, and that means everything to me now. I'll love you forever for being the amazing husband to me that you always were. You were the best friend I've ever had and never once judged me or looked down on me. You were an amazing father to our daughters, even in the short time that they and you existed at the same time. I still love you for the man that you were and the example that you set for so many people in this world. You are truly a lot to live up to.

I love you honey. I miss you. There's no way to get passed either of these things, but that's okay, because I don't want to. I will love you always, and I will miss you forever.