To Casey From Dad On Her First "Angel-Versary" January 2009

Dear Casey – Today I flipped the page on your angel-versary calendar from one to two. People say it gets better with time. It doesn’t. This year was harder than last because I feel you slipping that much further away. I feel like all I can do is lie in bed and stare at the wall. I move very slowly. I have to work harder to cement your memory into my brain. It’s hard to be spiritual about this because I miss you too much. Maybe it gets worse before it gets better.

I don’t have much interest in things that don’t directly correlate to you. People ask if I’ll look for a job, travel, climb mountains, pray, help the homeless, go to a spa, turn this into a positive, be grateful for what I have (left). They mean well but don’t get it. You don’t get over it. You adjust. You have no energy. You contemplate much bigger questions, like what REALLY is the purpose of my existence? How long can I stand to wait before I see you again? I will find something, because to do otherwise would render your life meaningless. You’d just be remembered as a troubled dead girl. I can’t live with that.

When you lay in your crib in the orphanage crying and nobody came, you learned that no one would be there for you. You tried to soothe yourself as best you could. You did what you had to do to survive. I lived in denial. I wanted to believe that first year was long forgotten but now I understand how crucial it was. I tried to get there as fast as I could. I wanted to comfort you in the middle of the night. Even when you pushed me away, I tried to be there for you. I never stopped loving you. I realize now that I had to be somebody else to be the kind of dad you needed. Sometimes I wasn’t the dad I wanted to be. There is never a waking or sleeping moment when you don’t completely fill my mind.

I see your pictures everywhere but look away. We finally had to pack up your room that was frozen in time, January 29, 2008. Mom and I are moving to the “cuts” as you would say. You must think that’s pretty funny. We’re just trying to let go, but not of you. I see fathers and daughters everywhere. In the Safeway I hear a girl’s voice, “Hey Dad.” In a split second I have a picture of you before I realize it’s someone else. I wince. Men say with an air of nonchalance, “yeah I have 2 kids.” They take it all for granted. 

I’m pouring everything I have into my book. Who knows what’ll happen – bestseller, movie, musical? It has to be honest, so I hope you’ll trust me. No one loves you like I do. I would never expose anything about you without lying down on the couch myself in the public square. I expose my laments, failures, insecurities, disappointments, missed opportunities. It’s the least I can do. I want everyone to fall in love with you, especially those who never got to know the physical you. 

Kiss the rainbow for me and say hi to everyone there. We miss you here more than ever – Mom and me, Igor, Emily, Julian, Joel, Ben, Jess, Julia, Christine, Max, Dylan, Ariel, Jill, Claudia, Rebecca to name a few. Hanna and Lexi are going to try to stop by today. They’re so sweet. Charlotte flew to Upstate NY to keep Roxanne company. She didn’t want to be alone. Jono and Gregg (who I may start calling fondly Beavis & Butthead) helped me move stuff yesterday. Maryse texted Mom. You’re on everyone’s mind today.

A tear dropped on the keyboard. I wipe it away, feeling a lump in my throat. Love doesn’t begin to describe my feelings for you.

Dad