Stories from my dad's service

Bozo the Clown

Dear mom and dad,

Time just keeps flying by. Sometimes, I find myself stopping in my tracks, pinching myself ever so lightly as not to leave a mark or cause bruising, and wondering if this is really my life. 

And yet other times, it's hard to believe you weren't just here with us. Hard to believe that everything that happened in 3 short years was real. Hard to believe I haven't always been the person I am today, the one who's been broken and tested and somehow still learned to stay standing. 

Sometimes I feel like one of those inflatable punching bags, right down to the bozo the clown exterior with the painted-on smile. Sometimes I feel like the world just kept swinging at me, and no matter how hard the blow or how much it looked like it might knock me down for good, I somehow have inside me a weighted base that makes it possible for me to continually spring back up, again and again. 

That base in the bottom of my punching bag was built by the two of you. Every little act of love you threw my way...every time you encouraged me to come to a conclusion on my own, but still instilled in me the knowledge and peace of mind that you would always have my back; every time you built me back up when the world around me had made me feel small; every time you reminded me of my potential; every time you tickled my back or stroked my hair as I buried my head in your chest to get one of your big bear hugs; every time you laughed at my smartass jokes or cried with me as our worlds came crashing down...all of that and so much more has somehow accumulated and, when adhered together, is apparently heavy enough and sturdy enough to sustain the two worst blows I could have imagined.

Getting through the big stuff has sometimes proven more seemless than expected, while the little things hit me hard and from out of nowhere. It's those moments when I pick up the phone to call dad and ask him for his logical, sound advice on something, or when I'm laying on the floor with Radar and he puts his paw around me like he knows how much I needed him and that I'm still hurting because I miss you two more than I could put into words. It's the moments when I suddenly become aware of how much someone reminds me of one of you or when I see an elderly person hobbling along and realize watching my parents age to that extent won't be something I'll ever have the heart-wrenching privilege of experiencing. It's those moments when horrible things are happening in this world and I can't even pretend anymore that you two will forever be able to protect me from it or somehow make it okay. 

I'm not claiming to be some larger-than-life hero with superhuman strength or to have accomplished some great feat. I'm not a warrior who's going up against brain cancer or trying to solve world hunger or finding a cure for disease. But I'm stronger than I had ever imagined I could be. If I'm able to get out of bed with the knowledge that I will spend the rest of my time on this planet without my two biggest cheerleaders and lay down at night with the comfort of knowing that I've spent another day being the kind of person who would make you both proud, then I'm doing pretty okay by my own personal standards. 

I know time won't likely stop flying. All I can hope is that I can continue to just keep up.