For the past 50 years, I have been able to wish my Dad a Happy Father’s Day. This is the first year I could not. My Dad took his last breath on April 2, 2016, while I was flying somewhere over Georgia on my way to Ft. Lauderdale. He knew I was coming but could not wait for me to give him one last hug and tell him that I loved him. I am so glad that when I left him in February, I gave him a really big hug during our last visit and I told him how much I loved and appreciated him.

Over the past year, he was getting noticeably frail and I didn’t hug him much for fear of hurting him. I simply kissed his forehead. However, in February, I decided that he really needed a great big hug and kiss and I needed to give it him. My Dad was a real emotional guy and when he received a good hug, he would let out a lovely satisfying ahhh. I am so glad I hugged him; because that was the last time I was with him when he was alive. I have no doubt that he knew how much I loved him and cared for his well being, but hugs make everyone feel better.

Like all Father and Daughter relationships, ours was complicated. I was definitely no “Dad’s Little Girl” or his “Little Princess,” but that is because he shared many of his own strong personality characteristics that made me an independent and confident individual. Aside from these core personality traits, we lived very different lifestyles. All my life, his hands were the softest I had ever felt, which spoke to his lack of physical labor during his lifetime. He appreciated natural beauty by sitting on a porch, beach or boat and he drank it all in; interacting with nature just wasn’t his thing. Unlike me, who lives for getting intimate with the natural world. Although he never really understood my paths, he respected me and the choices I made. There was never a doubt that he loved me unconditionally. That single fact made any disagreement or heated exchanged possible, because I was able to be real, honest and in your face without fear of loss. Sugar coating has never been my specialty. In fact, he nurtured and guided my openness. Whenever I needed to explain a difficult and sometimes distasteful situation he would always comment, “I really appreciate how you were able to explain that so I could understand it better, thank you.”  He provided a safe and accepting environment for me to be me.

I have just started the long and bumpy mourning process. I’ve been occupying my thoughts with the tasks of settling legal matters, along with taking care of and supporting my Mom, as her life has changed quite a bit since her husband’s death. But ever so often, the reality of no longer sharing this earth with my Dad creeps in and my soul breaks wide open and aches. Luckily, I can still hear his voice when he was strong and full of memories and stories as I recorded an interview I did with him in 2003. But, no more hugs, no more sighs, no more disagreements, no more, “Debbie you are doing the right thing.” All I have are memories and the last kiss I gave him on his forehead in the hospital after his soul left his body.