Oh how the years go by

Friday, July 29 marked 10 years since my dad died. Which is crazy. Where did those 10 years go? Am I really 33? Ugh. I am. And I've been dad-less for a decade.

Every year for the last 10 years, I have written my dad a letter on the anniversary of the day he went Home. I get him caught up on all the things I would have liked to share with him and talk with him about. All the stuff he missed. And every year, I have taken those letters out and read them before adding the new one. I'm missing one, from 2007, but I'm sure I'll find it eventually.  Anyway, what strikes me about those letters is that they are not a rundown of the Highlights of the Year. They are letters. Love letters, in a way. Pouring my heart out into little dad-sized cups.

I haven't written one for this year yet. I've been thinking about it, wondering what I would tell him. Wanting to tell him about all the fun and random and piercing-sweet things we have found in the house as we empty it. Smoothing my hands over books he loved, trinkets and souvenirs from adventures we all had together, photos that kept his grin and permanently-squinty eye. I'll tell him about being married, and loving AugDog, and how much I appreciate the spacious house he built now that I live in a shoebox. I'll tell him some secrets. Some travels. Some job stuff. Something funny.

I will tell my dad how much I miss him, and how often I wonder what he and Hubs would have talked about together. He wanted grand children, so I'll get him up to speed on our current musings on the subject. I will tell him how many people have been helping us with the house, and tell him some of the stories they have shared with us about their memories there. And maybe I'll wonder with him about what the next 10 years might be like.

If my dad were alive today, I bet he would tell me to stick it out at my job unless I get a significantly better offer. He'd tell me to get pregnant ASAP, because no one is getting any younger. He'd want to tell me not to worry about the future, but then admit that he worries about it all the time. He'd remind me that everything is in God's hands, and that God is Good. He'd tell me to spend less, pray more, and spend as much time as I can with Hubs. And then he would tell an inappropriate joke, and laugh until he coughs.

10 years missing that laugh. I will never stop straining to hear it whenever anything is really, really funny.