I remember January 8th, 2008 like it was yesterday. Sometimes I remember that day, and some of the days to follow, so vividly that it is haunting. Why is that I can remember the bad so vividly, but not always the good? It might sound strange, but as the 8th passes each month, it brings me a little bit of pain. It is another month that I have not seen my Dad. Another month that I have not heard his voice. Another month, living with a makeshift patch over my heart. I can't believe that it has been two years. The time, hurts more, makes it more real, in this strange kind of way.

I don't know that grief ever gets easy. People expect you to pick up the pieces after years have passed, but the fact is tragedy changes us. We can never be completely the same, so how can we pick up the exact pieces that were shattered? I don't think that we can. I think we find ways to mend those holes, but the patches are makeshift.... they never completely hide the holes and they never feel completely secure.

I miss my Dad. I miss my Dad for a million reasons. And, although I wish I had time to write them all, I will share just one. My Dad always made me feel proud. I know, out of all the things, it might sound trivial, but it is not.

In the past two years a lot has changed in my life, and although there has been a lot of pain, there has been a lot of good too. But for some reason, I don't feel the same pride and sense of accomplishment that I use to. I don't feel much pride that I graduated from college. I don't feel much pride that I moved up to DC to take a "dream" first job. I don't feel much pride for workouts I finish. Or much pride in my dreams that I am chasing. The thing is, my Dad was always my biggest supporter. He had a sort of tough love about him, but above all, the love and support won.

As I reflect on all the things I accomplished while my Dad was alive, and the sense of pride I felt about my life and dreams, I realize a lot of what I felt was because of the unwavering support my Dad showed to me. He was my coach in life, on the track, and with accomplishing my dreams. If my heart was set on something, my Dad would help me find a way to accomplish it. He never had to motivate me, he just knew how to SUPPORT me. My Dad never lived his life through me, but he certainly live his life FOR his kids and his family. I felt pride, because of the pride my Dad felt for me. Because when I told him about a dream, he listened, and would help me scheme. Because when I told him that I wanted to do something, he didn't laugh, but would help me take action. Because he never told me what was RIGHT for me just because it was what he wanted. My Dad shined when I made my dreams come true. And when he shined, I shined too. It felt good to make him proud. I just wish, he was here, to see me now.

I know that with death, we must keep moving forward. Love does not die, it is carried on by our lives. I know that the only way to honor my Dad, is to keep chasing my dreams. But, I always miss my biggest fan and the one person who made me feel, that the world was at my hands.

Life is a cycle we don't understand,and although we try, we can't always make plans .But through it all, we will meet again, in a better place, in a far off land.