It really doesn't get easier. :(

I never thought seven years would pass as fast as it has. Missing you never gets easier. I have good days and bad days. The holidays, birthdays, and Father's Day are the hardest.

I'll never forget the day we lost you. I can't remember the movie I was in when Dad called to tell me that you were in the hospital. Now it just seems like a waste of time. I wish I could have been there, next to you. I played off this hospital stay as "just a bit of pneumonia" and you would be fine. Still to this day, I wish I would have picked up the phone and told you how much I love you.

I was napping when I got the call. Dad's voice just didn't seem, right. It was strained, his tone was sharp, there was no joking. The words cut me like a knife, "Ashlee, where's your mom?". Still to this day I get the chills when I think of that moment. The moment I realized that something was indefinitely, wrong. I begged him to tell me what had happened. All he did was repeatedly ask for my mom. I confirmed she wasn't home and pleaded with my dad to tell me what had happened. There was a huge lump in my throat, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, adrenaline flooded my system.

When Dad told me what had happened I couldn't believe it. I remember crying, hearing the tears on the other end of the phone. I begged him to tell me he was kidding, that it was all some sick joke. He wasn't gone. Not my best friend. Not the person I had spent 18 birthday's with. Not MY Papa.

The next memory I have is of my mom running up the hill to her new house in Georgia, tears in her eyes. I remember throwing myself into packing, telling them I was going to get on a plane tonight. I had to be home. Papa needed me. Everyone told me that it wasn't a good idea to fly. I was hysterical. I didn't want to be 3,000 miles from home. I remember calling my work, telling them I wasn't coming back for my shift in a few days. They understood. I told my mom I wasn't staying at her house. Because they had just moved, none of their stuff had arrived yet, there was nothing to distract me. We all piled into my mom's car and went to eat, and shop.

The next day I could barely wait to get on that plane. I cried the entire flight from Atlanta to Houston. I barely even remember getting off the plane. I attempted to eat spaghetti in the terminal because I was starving, but took a few bites and remembered that Papa would never again taste Grandma's spaghetti and I had to throw it out. The plane from Houston to the Springs was a blur. I know a nice lady handed me a few pages of her Sudoku in an attempt to keep my mind off everything. It sort of worked, the tears were less frequent at least.

I got off the plane, hugged my family and just collapsed into the arms of my (at the time) boyfriend. Being home, seeing their tear stained faces made it real. Papa was gone, and I didn't even say goodbye. The next days are a blur of people, tears and food. So much food. And the last thing I even wanted to do was eat. I was beyond numb. It felt like there was an enormous hole in my chest where my heart used to be. I remember begging my dad to just leave me home one afternoon because I couldn't stand the thought of more people, more food, and more "I'm so sorry"'s. It wasn't going to bring him back. I look back and I know that everyone meant well and that they were doing it out of love for us and for Papa but at the time I was so angry that I just wanted them all to leave me alone.

I remember the wake. Standing in that room with Papa's body 50 feet away. I remember believing that if I didn't look it wouldn't be real. That I would wake up from this horrible dream and I could pick up the phone and talk to him. I avoided most of the people and I avoided the front of the room. I sat in the back crying, rocking back and forth. At some point I remember being supported and half carried to the front of the room by my (at the time) boyfriend and dad. I remember the way he looked. Almost like he had been stuffed with a cardboard box. That wasn't my Papa. He didn't have a round belly, his skin an almost unnatural flesh color. I remember a pink tint to his lips. But I had to accept the unacceptable, he was gone. He was laying there so peacefully in his favorite CC Tiger jersey. I'm sure I only stood up there for a minute, but still to this day it seems like hours.

The funeral is a blur. But I know that I still cannot listen to Amazing Grace and not cry. I remember being so exhausted in every way possible. I could barely keep my eyes open, but at the same time I avoided sleeping until I could not physically stay awake any longer.

Sometimes I find myself reaching for my phone to call him. Only to remember I don't have the number to Heaven. I'm so sad he never got to meet Kaylin. But I'm sure he's looking down laughing at me right now as I type this with a constant flow of tears. He's telling me that he sent that little girl to me, because he knew I needed her. He sent her special, just for me. I'm sad that I can't just have one more hug and know that no matter what I'm going through right now, it will all be okay and that he loves me. I know I will always want one more. Because when you lose someone who means so much to you, one more is just never enough.

He would fix anything he could. I remember countless Barbie heads being reattached as he yelled about the obnoxious number of naked Barbies we had. I remember how he loved Corona, and sprayed the daylights out of an area of his favorite Mexican restaurant . I remember his little green coin holder that smelled like years of loose change. I remember how much he bickered with my grandma because she would move stuff around on him, "Dammit, Ginger!". I remember the trap he made to catch the pesky squirrels in the backyard, and how excited he got when he actually caught one. He would drive them to Palmer Park and let them go, so they would have a nice big area to run around in. I remember how much he loved fishing. Boy did he love to fish. I remember how he taught us to use maggots and would always make his own flies for fly fishing. I remember curling up next to him in his chair, pushing off the crossword puzzle that was meticulously folded. He always had room for us in that chair, even at 16 that was still my favorite spot in the house. Every now and then when I close my eyes I can imagine myself in that chair, my head on his chest.

I miss him, so much. I love you Papa. Always and Forever

April 13th 1934 - July 28th 2006

Day 36 – A picture of your pet

Well ya'll I don't have a pet. Not even a fish. Its not that I don't like pets, because that's far from it. Right now I know that the responsibility of having a pet is more than I can take at the moment. Between work, living in an apartment, and being a single mom...I just don't have the time to devote to a pet, of any sort.

Now that being said, I'd LOVE a German Shepherd. I've always loved them. They are so loyal, and beautiful. So instead of making this a post of MY pet, I'm going to post about the pet that I've always wanted. And one day, when I have a house and a big enough back yard with the time to devote to him/her, I plan on getting.

Don't they make the cutest puppies?

Day 35 – A picture of your hometown

This is home. Colorado Springs, Colorado. Our city, sitting at the base of Pikes Peak. The place I was born and raised. The place that I would love to raise my kiddo.

There is so much to do here. We've got the best of both worlds. We've got the city, with its abundance of movie theaters, malls, nightlife, and good neighborhoods and schools. And we're close to the mountains for the weekend getaways and daily hiking trips. We've got Santa's Workshop, The Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, and The Garden of the Gods. Plenty to do outside and inside.

I love my city. I love being able to do just about anything I want at any time. I'm thankful this is home.

Thoughts this Christmas

It was Christmas Eve. I had spent the previous night working overnight, slept for 5 hours and got ready for church. By 8 pm I was exhausted and my Little was definitely tired too. I had to fireman carry her out of a family members house kicking and screaming. I still had a long night ahead of me and it was definitely taking its toll.

After I got my Little in her new Christmas pj's, we laid in her bed and tracked Santa one last time as she drifted off to sleep. I quietly closed her bedroom door with a soft, "I love you baby. Sleep good and Merry Christmas." And I began the painstaking process of assembling a few of her presents.

As I put the final sticker on her new kitchen, I sat on the couch and looked at everything she had been given. That's when it hit me. Some parents had presents under their trees that will never be opened.

I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be the family of one of the victims of Sandy Hook Elementary. I can only imagine the pain of seeing an empty bed Christmas Eve knowing that it will never be full again. That those feet will not coming bounding down the stairs Christmas morning in excitement to see what Santa had left. Those parents will never again read "The Night Before Christmas" to all their children on Christmas Eve.

Suddenly as overwhelmed, tired, and stressed as I was, I was thankful. Thankful that my Little was sleeping safely in her bed.

That is when I bowed my head and prayed. Prayed for those innocent souls taken too soon, prayed for the families who were going to be missing a loved one this Christmas, and I thanked God for everything I have. Because without Him, I would have nothing.

So take a moment and thank God for all you have and what he has done for you. It shouldn't take a tragedy to remind us how fragile life is, but I am so thankful I have another day with the one who matters most.

Summer has come and gone

Wow, pretty long time since I actually sat down and wrote a blog. Let's see....

Happy 2nd Birthday Kaylin!

I finished and passed my microbiology and math classes. We surprised my mom in Georgia for my brother's high school graduation and then went back to Georgia at the beginning of July. I watched in fear as the mountains surrounding my city burned. Kaylin turned 2, we celebrated with a Mickey Mouse themed pool party. It was even complete with a full banner, home made by her aunts!

I can't believe summer is already gone again, it feels like yesterday it was snowing outside as I was studying the Krebs cycle of bacteria. Its almost time to shut those windows again and snuggle up on the couch with someone special and a cup of coffee.

Now I'm back in school, finishing up my last classes before I can apply for the nursing program. So forgive me if some of these are spread out, studying is more important than blogging. Speaking of, enjoy these pictures, I gotta hit the books while Kaylin sleeps.

Kaylin and I on her birthday

Her cake

Cutting cake and scooping ice cream

Day 34 – A picture of your favorite morning

 

Taking home my Little

 Every now and then when I'm feeling sentimental, I look back at pictures of my Little when she was first born. Recently she sat in that car seat, and ate it alive. Instead in this picture it looks like its swallowing her!

Sleeping like an angel

I remember Dennis went to get the car, the nurse helped me into the wheelchair and I put my bundled up little girl on my lap.We got to the emergency exit where Dennis had parked the car so I didn't have to walk far, being post-surgery and all. Little was put into the car and I eased myself into the front seat. It was a miserably cold and rainy August morning.

I was slightly paranoid with the rain and the autobahn but we got her home safe and sound and laid her gently into the bassinet and proceeded to take a nap too.

Little on her first birthday

My other favorite morning was the morning that she turned 1. Since we'd had her birthday party the Saturday before, we just did something small after church. I saved a few presents for her actual birthday and this is one of my favorite shots.

She loves her "baby" 's as much as I did when I was little. I see myself in this little girl daily! From her attitude, to her addiction to stuffed animals. At this current moment I have 4 stickers plastered all over my hand from her putting them there.

Man I wouldn't trade this for the WORLD.

Toddler Dressing Olympics

So getting my toddler dressed in the morning has gone from a quick 2 minute process to a full blown race around the house. Then it dawned on me, there are many ways the sport of toddler dressing can take form.

The cooperative toddler: The time when your precious bundle of joy is actually willing to put that pudgy little arm in the shirt sleeve, or lets you put on shoes that fit just right. However, I rarely see this until half way through the dressing sport.

The run away toddler: My toddler's personal favorite event in the sport of dressing. She loves to let me get her undressed, get her new diaper on and then she flips over and runs away. There is a lot of, "Come back here." and  "You need to get dressed, Mommy has to go bye-bye. Don't you want to see Papa?" Typically all of these statements get a simple, "No." response. Then I have to get up, and chase after her while she runs into the nearest corner in a feeble attempt to hide from me. After I retrieve my darling toddler, I have to fight the thrashing and crying to get her pants and shirt on. The shoes typically are more fun for her, she likes to watch them get put on.

The could have been cooperative toddler: Once in a while, my sweet little girl will do exactly as I ask, "Go lay down in your room, you need a butt-butt change." She'll go lay down on her bedroom floor all nice and sweet and the second I grab the diaper and wipes out comes the kicking, screaming, fighting toddler. Typically this occurs more when there is a diaper rash or something...but she still kicks and fights getting dressed. I'm fairly sure that is where a good portion of the bruises on my legs have come from.

The half dressed toddler: Usually I can manage to get a diaper changed, pants and socks on my toddler easily. I'll sit her up to put the shirt over her head and hike those tiny little jeans up over her no butt, and she takes off. She laughs running around the house without a shirt on, belly hanging out. Typically I have to chase her down and get the shirt on over her head before she collapses to the floor in one of her typical morning fits.

The distracted toddler: Similar to the cooperative toddler, but instead of helping she is distracted. Be it the tv, a random toy she's yelled, "Me!" for, or a stuffed animal she's mauling for the 100th time, she's a bit more cooperative until the shirt has to get put on.

Anyone else have a fun toddler dressing story to share?