Letters to Heaven.

Daddy,

Daddy,

I tried to do my homework, I tried really really hard to do my homework but you kept crossing my mind. "y=2x-3" You would laugh at me, because I break down, I complain and everyone is like "Just do it. Do the work."

It's not that simple.

My grades were always good, but I've been thinking a lot lately, about you, about him, about everything except what I'm supposed to be thinking about. In math class I'm thinking about how when I was in the first grade you used to make me sit down at the kitchen table and watch me do my "25-12=?" 's . In English class I'm thinking about how you used to laugh at me when I wrote my little fairy tale ending stories, and I know why now. They don't exist. In history I'm thinking about the Vietnam war you fought in and the PTSD you suffered from. In science I remember those little projects I used to wake up at 10pm and beg you to help me put the finishing touches on. In Spanish class, I remember how you could only say "No habla ingles," And I remember how much you would laugh at me for setting my dreams all the way up to NYU. We used to say USCL. Daddy, I don;t want to go to a local college. I'm sorry. In gym, I remember that time you taught me how to ride my bike all over again because I was afraid of falling off again. At lunch i remember the little Grill we used to go to down the street from our house, and I remember how we used to go to bojangles with our dog, "boo boo" and ate on the tailgate of our truck with sausage biscuits (2 packets of Jelly) and ice water for Boo Boo. At recess I think about you. You. You. You. You. You. You. You.

I really do hope, with everything in my body, that I had nothing to do with you leaving this world forever. I don't think you understand just how much you meant to me.

I'm still grieving, even after 10 months. I'm. Still. Sad.

And I don't know how to fix it.

Daddy, I miss you.