It's been too long.

It's been too long since I've talked to my dad ... been too long since I've heard his voice, had one of his bear hugs, debated with him, smiled at his boisterous laugh, and watched him play with his grand kids.

All of these things that I miss, consume my mind constantly. And when I say "constantly", what I mean is that I think about him almost every minute that I am awake. I can't do anything without my mind turning to my dad, and my heart feeling the weight of our loss.

It's been almost 4 weeks, and I just can't wrap my mind around the fact that he's gone. The man who lovingly wrapped his arms around me my whole life will never do that again. I know that he wouldn't want us to suffer, but the love from my dad, a love that I've known my entire life, can't be shown to me anymore.

My dad's best buddies want to have a BBQ in his honor this Friday. I absolutely do not mind putting it together, and sending out the info. We want to celebrate his life. And that's a great thing! But even acknowledging the reason that a BBQ is to happen, creates an ache so deep in me, that I know only time can hopefully lighten.

In the meantime, I subconsciously keep waiting for his phone call, or waiting to hear the sound of his motorcycle pulling up.

In the meantime, when my head connects with my heart and I realize that I'll never get that phone call, or see him walk in the door, I will ache. And I will ache with my whole heart, my whole body, my whole being. And that's ok for now, I think. Because in the meantime, I'll take the ache, and know its there because my dad loved me with us with his whole heart, his whole body, and his whole being.

God, please give us the strength to get through this time. Please help us to hold on to our faith during this time, so that we can begin to heal. Amen.

A little less smile

11 days ... its been 11 days since we lost my dad. Unreal.

At first, my heart was so heavy, it ached so bad that I didn't stop crying for the first 48 hours. I just couldn't believe it ... a man that had loved me my whole life, taken away in less than 5 seconds? A man that taught me life's most essential lessons, shaped me into who I am today, left our world? It couldn't be so.

For the first few days, I tortured myself by thinking of the accident, and how clueless and scared my dad must have been. Everyone assured me that the accident happened too fast for my dad to even be able to respond or think about what was happening. So then I started thinking, great, my dad left this world without even thinking of his family because he had no time to.

THEN, came the viewing and funeral. Those days were a blur. Saying goodbye is never easy, but saying it in the most permanent state, such as death ... God that was devastating. We shouldn't have had to say goodbye to him so early. My dad, so vivacious and full of life, simply gone.

Now the last handful of days, I've been trying to keep myself together, for my husband, for my children, and for my little sisters. My mind isn't wrapping around the fact that I'll never see my dad walk in my door again, or hug my kids again. My mind isn't wrapping around the fact that I'll never hear my dad's voice again, or listen to my husband tell him that the Packers suck and the Seahawks rock. My heart isn't accepting the fact that my dad just isn't here anymore. Even writing those words are weighing my heart down, my head down, my arms down, my hands down.

I've been really attempting to pull myself up, show my kids that their Grandpa taught me how to be a strong person. But when I smile, its half heartedly. When I laugh, it feels empty. I just don't feel whole. I feel like a completely different person than I was 12 days ago.

I know that this new life, a life without my dad, is going to take some getting used to. I realize that there will be different parts to this grieving process, and I understand that my family and I need time to start healing. Although we'll never recover from such a great loss, I have faith that we will become a stronger family because of this.

Before I sign off, a little note -- this loss could have been avoided. This teenage kid, who clearly had no business driving, shouldn't have been on the road. He rocked hundreds of lives, left hundreds of people suffering because of his carelessness. In the last 11 days, I've heard several people mention that motorcycles are dangerous. I've got news for you - motorcycles are not dangerous. Its the other drivers on the road. Yes, motorcycles are harder to see, but that is why as a driver, your job is to look and PAY ATTENTION. There was no reason my dad shouldn't have been spotted, he was driving the speed limit, with his high beams on, on a road where no trees, bushes, or anything else was obstructing the vision of other drivers. Please, PAY ATTENTION. Put down your cell phones or anything else you are looking for before you take the life of another person. You want to drive on a deserted road and put yourself at risk, have at it. But when you are responsible for the lives around you, PAY ATTENTION.

Someone mentioned that anger is a part of the grieving process, so thanks for understanding that last paragraph. I'm Bill's daughter, trust when I say that there is more where that came from.

I will miss this man more than words could ever describe. 

Broken heart.

A week ago today, 10/3/2013, we lost a great man, my dad, Bill Spellman.

Last Thursday morning, my dad got on his motorcycle, like he does every Monday-Friday, and started his 4 mile trip to work. When my dad drank his cup of coffee, smoked his morning cigarette, and put on his shoes to leave, he did not know that all of those actions would be his last. 

12 hours before the accident, Dad was over at our home, celebrating Sophia's 3rd birthday. We made dinner, he played with his grand kids, he hugged them, he watched his only granddaughter open gifts, and he laughed. When we said bye to my dad, we said that we would see him over the weekend. That was our plan.

Less than a mile from his work, a teenage kid ran head on into my dad. The doctors and police say that he died instantly. I quote, "When he arrived at the hospital he had no heartbeat. Since he is so young and strong, we tried for 30 minutes to revive him". They let us see my dad laying on the table in the hospital room where they tried to bring my dad back to life. 

Because of one moment that someone, some teenage kid, was not paying attention while he was driving, our whole lives changed. That one moment, turned several lives upside down. That one moment took away a husband. A daddy. A greatly loved grandpa. A brother. An uncle. A friend. 

That pain .... the pain we all feel, the void that is now a part of all of us, can never be filled. Instead, we try to find comfort in our faith, and in memories. 

Some of my aunts and uncles requested for me to send out the speech I wrote for my dad's viewing this past Monday night. I wrote that speech, at 2 am, when the ache in my heart forced me to write out some words. 

"My dad was my rock. My go-to for advice. My hands for comfort. My voice of reason.

Who was Bill Spellman to you? What do you think when you hear the name ‘Bill Spellman’? I’ll bet you think – Fun. Proud. Dedicated. Strong. Consistent.

My dad was a go-getter. When he wanted something, he put his whole heart into the effort. My husband Nate, one of my dad’s best friends, and I were talking a couple nights ago about how my dad always had projects. “This grass could be greener”, “These shelves could be sturdier”, “These cars could be shinier”. But my dad didn’t make any old project sound like just any old project – he made that project sound like it was about to change his life, like his life’s mission was to complete this project. Dedicated. Any when that task was complete, oh Nate and I heard every detail! Proud. And he tackled life and all that came with it, with the same drive at every turn. Consistent. Passionate.

Tonight we celebrate a gift that God gave to each of us sitting in this room – my dad. My dad’s presence was larger than life. You knew when he was near, and you could feel the void if he wasn’t.

I’m going to miss eagerness for all of the things life had to offer. I’m going to miss his booming laugh. I’m going to miss his bear hugs. I’m going to miss the way he walked, and the way he thought his Obama jokes were hilarious. I already miss and yearn for his phone calls … to hear his voice once more.

But more than anything, I will miss the way my dad loved his family. He always wanted sons, but God challenged him with daughters. He raised us 3 with a lot of fight and hardness, knowing one day he would be called to the Lord, and my sisters and I would continue his legacy. We will kick ass and take names, Bill Spellman style. We will fight for what we believe in, and we will love hard, because we are Bill Spellman’s daughters. And I will gratefully teach and remind my children of what an amazing and loving grandpa they had.

My little William Thomas Spellman will take everything he has learned from his grandpa these last 10 years, and proudly wear that name, just like my dad did. As his first grandson, I know Will is going to keep his gramps’ memory alive – work hard, play hard. Jacob, my dad’s redheaded firecracker of a twin, will help us to remember my dad’s love of life, and the laughter and joy that resided in him. Sophia, grampy’s girl, will remind us of the kind heart and intense love my dad possessed. Andrew will remind us of the spunk and determination that was my dad.

I will miss my dad terribly, no words could ever describe how much, but my dad, my pops, will live on in each one of us. Hold your head high, love hard, and cheer on Notre Dame, because my dad is still with us, watching us, and loving us."

These pictures were taken the night before my dad entered his eternal life... this is how we'll always remember him.

Cuddling with the birthday girl, aka Grampy's Girl

His model face

Saying "cheers" to his girl

Thank you to all of our friends and family who are loving us and supporting us during this tragedy. We could not have made it this last week without you. I know each of you shares in our pain, and I am proud of my dad for making an impact in so many lives.

Forever in our hearts Daddy.