One year ago, Father’s Day 2013, was the last day I got to spend with you. Regardless that I was visiting you in a hospital bed it probably was one of the best Father’s Day I had ever spent with you. I know we never had the typical Dad/ Daughter relationship but months leading up to when you passed we had built a relationship, one where we actually communicated with honesty, breaking down walls that both of us had put up.
Now that these walls were down I remember discussing everything with you, from my hypothetical wedding, home buying, school, investing. It was actually a very productive hang out 🙂
I keep to heart every word you told me that day. The past year has been full of change. Probably the biggest was graduation. I know you couldn’t wait to see me earn my degree. However, this isn’t a letter to toot my horn about what I have accomplished.
This letter is to tell you that I forgive you. I know your struggle with obesity was overwhelming, a feeling that progress just can’t happen. One step forward was met with five steps back. The emotions built up, a feeling of not being good enough, is probably the worst. For many months after you passed I was angry feeling like you didn’t try or that maybe I should have tried harder to motivate you. This in turn threw me into a cycle of depression which ultimately led to a weight gain myself.
The dark clouds have begun to clear and with that an understanding of forgiveness, that this journey is tough, obesity isn’t just a physical problem but rooted with many complex emotions. I thought I already knew this but not to the depth which I have now experienced. There isn’t a one size fits all box. Moving more and eating less is only a small piece of the puzzle. So many times I have questioned “Why did I eat that?” or “Why don’t I want to workout today?” but really those are all the wrong questions. The question that needs to be asked is “What is going on in my world right now which is causing this reaction” ?
Dad, I love you and miss you dearly. I forgive you and I am blessed that you are my Dad. Your light is still here, guiding me, with the values and lessons you taught me for 25 years.
Your little girl.