Is this experience even real?

I asked my therapist this question the other day. Is this even real? Losing one person like I did, who was so close to me, was hard enough, but losing a second one six weeks later on the same day of the week, at about the same time of day, was even harder for me to comprehend. I remember getting to that hospital, leaving my hospital, which was right down the street, and saying to our family members and friends, "Didn't we just do this?" amidst tears and sadness. It has been almost two years since I lost my dad.

I remember when he told me about his tumor. I remember being at the house for a family dinner, and all I could think about was "where did this come from?" and "I am not concerned because how long has it been here that it didn't cause any problems." I think back to those last weeks before he passed often. I think about saying my peace to him in the hospital. I remember him squeezing my hand when he was unconscious and heavily sedated when I told him some baseball news, despite nothing making the situation better. I wanted to talk to him. I told him how much I loved him and how much he meant to me as my father, my best friend, someone I loved spending time with. Someone I knew we would all miss. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest thing I have ever done. Losing my dad didn't feel real, and almost two years later, I cannot comprehend some days how I have made it this long without him. Even with everyone around, my mom and I, although that makes things easier, it doesn't take away our pain.

When I was talking to my therapist about some of the stuff that I think about often, I think about my mom a lot. Although she keeps herself busy, I cannot imagine what it feels like to come home after a night out with friends and family, to an empty house. Although Augusta is always waiting for her, tail wagging, and happy to see her, it's still an empty house. The silence that greets her is something that keeps me worrying about how she is handling this. We all have our dark days in grief. When you spend 36 years married to someone, and one day they are no longer around, that has to be the worst feeling imaginable. I don't know how she manages to do it.

I think about what we accomplished together, the three of us. My dad and I went to all 30 major league baseball stadiums together, attending a game at every single one. My mom and dad used to venture to the US Open Tennis in New York City. My dad played some of the top 50 golf courses in the world. A plaque dedicated to his accomplishments sits at the first tee of Youghiogheny Country Club, celebrating his life and his eight club championships, with the mantra "Keep playing the game" attached to it. My dad and I attended the Super Bowl in Texas, where the Steelers played the Packers. Neither of us had known that the Packers' quarterback, Aaron Rodgers, would one day become the quarterback of the Steelers later in his career.

I was alive for that. My dad was not. I wonder what he thinks of this team. I know on Sunday, when the Steelers were getting hammered by the Seahawks, a familiar phrase came to mind. "How is it that their wide receivers can be wide open over the middle of the field every down, but our guys can't?" It was as if he were at the game with my mom and me. My dad was a huge sports fan, and thanks to him, I became a devoted fan of Ohio State football and basketball. Thanks to Tom, I attended a college with decent athletics, as he knew I loved watching and keeping track of college sports. I remember going to Old Dominion for the first time with my mom, and later attending an open house weekend with my dad, where we also caught a football game at ODU. ODU played Duquesne University in football and beat them 55-24. I don't know how it took us almost a full day to move into a college dorm room and a space that was smaller than my bedroom in my apartment, but that is how long it took us. My parents didn't speak the whole seven-hour drive back to Pittsburgh because if either of them did, they would have begun to cry.

I feel like that comes back up for one reason. Acknowledging losing someone close to you and the pain you are feeling causes us to cry. This is grief. As I write this blog tonight, I am holding back tears on my couch. I have to remind myself that everything happens for a reason, and sometimes God needs angels, too. I know my dad is up there with Tom playing golf and doing God's taxes. Tom is definitely making sure that God's teeth stay as white as they can be.

There are a few things that can take this everlasting pain away that I feel every day, but continuing to live on as my dad's legacy really helps sometimes. For everyone who has stood with us, your support and help have not gone unnoticed. We love and are so thankful for everyone who has been in our lives since that day that my dad left us. Life is short; enjoy every day as if it were your last, and love your loved ones as much as you can, because a day may come when they are no longer with you for a period of time. Death isn't goodbye forever; it is see you later.