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.