“If you want to change your direction,
If your time of life is at hand,
Well, don’t be the rule, be the exception
A good way to start is to stand.
Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking ‘cross the floor.
You put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking out the door.”
Dear Papa,
Ninety-One. That’s the number of days it has been since you left this earth. It’s the number of days that I’ve cried. It’s also the number of days I’ve reached for my phone to call you looking for advice on how to be okay again only to realize I’d never hear your voice again.
And now, with the holidays quickly approaching, the memories are flooding my mind. The smell of your house in Milford around Christmas time. Where your Christmas tree was always at. The decorated banister that lead to the room I’d stay in upstairs. Those famous choir boys set up outside in the yard. And watching those famous Christmas cartoon specials that I’ve watched every year since.
I remember going to the Marquee Theater to watch the Christmas play with you and Grandma. Always making sure we sat in the front row on the right hand side of the theater (because that’s the side that usually got the most interaction from the cast).
I remember when you and Grandma would come to Mom and Dad’s house for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I remember when it changed and you’d only come at Christmas. And I remember when you didn’t come at all. But you always made sure we talked on the phone on the holidays you missed, so I would be reminded of how much I was loved.
I remember my birthday. The phone calls from you that sometimes ended up lasting longer than planned.
I remember the smell of Old Spice when I’d give you a giant hug or was just sitting by you on the couch.
I’m honestly not sure how I’m going to get through the holidays this year. Knowing I won’t be able to pick up the phone and call you to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving or a Very Merry Christmas. I’m not sure how it’s going to feel to not hear you wish me a Happy Birthday this year either.
This time of year has always been my favorite. Because it always left me with such wonderful memories. And everyone keeps telling me that the first year is the worst. Because now, I have to figure out how to navigate things without you. All of the changes. The missed “I love yous”, no hugs or phone calls just because or on special occasions.
But things are different now. You’re celebrating in Heaven and I’m celebrating here on earth. I don’t get to make those memories again with you this year. I have to do this on my own now.
I don’t know if you remember the book you bought for Payton, it was one of those books that you could record yourself reading it. ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas. I think I’m going to start a new memory, a new tradition. I’m going to have you read that book to the kids and I this year and every year on out. I think it will help. It’ll make me feel like a tiny part of you is here, celebrating with us, loving us, guiding us.
I love you more than you know and I miss you even more than that. I really do hope you enjoy your holidays this year with your brothers and parents and everyone else up there. I’ll do my best to enjoy mine down here too. But I’m not making that a promise to you because I just can’t bare to let you down again.
I love you.
Love always,
Chelsea
Beautifully Chaotic 