I made a video for your birthday, one like I do every year. I went through an album of your memories saved to my phone and I checked every single picture without opening them, without reminiscing I just combined them into a video threw a song in the background and wrote a heartfelt post while I was numb and set it out for the world to see.
Tonight I sat down in my bed and that post came across my page so I opened it. I laid back and I watched your memories, your life go by and I felt you. I had forgotten your laugh but a picture passed by with your almighty cackle jumping off the screen, I forgot the way you hugged me as another one zoomed through and I felt your embrace, and I forgot you at peace as one more photo shot through of our family surrounding you and your eyes were ever so at ease.
I forgot. Why did I forget? How did I forget? You’ve always been so important and so missed that the feeling became dormant it became apart of me as a person that I forgot to stop and feel you through all I have left, the memories. I let life catch up and made myself think I was just to busy, writing was ours and I haven’t done it in so long. I forgot how good it feels to put my feelings on a page and let it fly. It got really easy to talk about you, to go through the motions of telling your stories and knowing people’s reactions at the punchlines. It became familiar, so familiar that I forgot.
Forgive me for forgetting, though I lost sight of you for a minute I never forgot to love you everyday.
Today I sat down and looked at pictures of my dad and I. Over the years I posted things for him and it got to be so normal that a calendar update would soar through my phone, I’d make a post and think of him and the day rode out and that was it. As I looked at those photos tonight I realized I hadn’t thought about his laugh and listened to it in my head in years, I hadn’t let myself remember the huge bear hugs he used to give me, instead I got used to the cold, and lastly I spaced out his peace, the confident quietness that he had so loudly taught me. Today I forgot, but tomorrow remembering is forever. I love you dad
rock on gold dust woman. 