I. Miss. My. Daddy.

Yes, I said it. I miss my daddy. Those of you who know my family know that my father was the most influential man in my life. He did nothing but love, support and encourage me through everything I ever attempted in my life. He was at every single hockey and soccer practice, scrimmage and game. Every. Single. One. The only time I ever remember my dad missing one is when he was in the hospital. I was the absolute definition of Daddy's Little Girl.

February 1, 1999 was a day that completely turned my life upside down. My father was dead. I was barely 17 years old. It was 3:47 a.m. when my sister, Stephanie, woke me up to tell me that I had to come downstairs. I instantly knew something was wrong. She didn't live with us, you see, so the fact that my sister was at my house at 3:47 a.m. was an instant clue. And yes, I remember that time. It's ingrained in my head. I also know that I was wearing snowflake flannel pants and our "Conference Champions" t-shirts that we'd just gotten from hockey.

My dad was lifeless. The EMT's had brought him inside the house to wait for the coroner to arrive. Since he had a DNR on file, they were unable to try and resuscitate him.

The rest of much of that day is a blur to me. I do remember going to school with my nephew, Tyler, so that we could let our teachers know. I remember telling Mr. F, my pottery teacher, and also having to tell my closest friend, Erika, as she was in his class. I remember walking around the school, aimlessly, with Erika for over an hour. In all honesty, I don't remember crying. My father's death didn't hit me until WELL after the fact.

I also had to break the news to Mr. P, our hockey coach. You see, my dad was influential to more than just me. After my father's funeral, I was handed a journal with notes from everyone on my hockey team, including parents and siblings, about how my dad touched their lives, too. It's funny, because I never read a single page of that journal until the 10 year anniversary of my daddy's death. I couldn't. I don't know why, but I just couldn't. But it affected me in ways that I never imagined. Can you believe that people on my hockey team thought of my father as their 2nd father?! Can you believe that people said that he influenced THEM in positive ways, too?! It's all a really hard concept to wrap my head around.

My parents were so much more than amazing parents...they would have given you the shirt off their backs. I can't tell you how many of my brother's friends lived with us, or how many thousands of boxes of clothes my parents sent to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. You know what? They raised 8 children. EIGHT.

And as much as I hate to admit it, it took me a LONG time to get my shit straight after the loss of my father...only to lose my mom two years later.

But, you know what? My mom prepared me for it. She talked to me about it. She gave me a "death speech" that included knowing I was in love when I could "pass gas" in front of him. (Fart was a swear word in our house).

I miss my mom every day, too, don't get me wrong...but I really, really miss my daddy.