Titling a post in a way that sums up what you want to say can be just as hard as writing the post itself – however short it may be.

As usual, the holidays are hard. I don’t want them to always be, but they just are, at least right now.

Today will mark 4 years without Dad. Early December 6th, 2019, I woke up to the call that he was passing away. That same day I listened to his last voicemails he had left for me. Voicemails from him were rare because I always answered his calls, but he had left one just months before when I didn’t have cell service in the hills of Missouri. Just a couple weeks after his passing, I heard his voice when I least expected it when I was walking out of the church say “Hey, Stuff! It’s gonna be okay.”

That Christmas was different, but it’s all the ones after that that have left a deeper hole. I felt Dad there that first Christmas. I had fresh memories. He had already bought some gifts so I had those to open from him.

It was a new reality, not having Dad physically there. It’s an even worse pain to feel the lingering absence of him 4 years later.

Time marches on, but time hasn’t healed all the wounds yet.

This season honestly feels worse than all the others and maybe that’s how grief works, even years down the road. You have ups and downs, good days, bad days, good years, and bad years.

Just like when his voice whispered through the wind that Sunday morning telling me it would be okay, I know he would say the same to me now.

Today and always, I just miss my Dad.