Missing a Man

In five days it will be the one year anniversary of my Father's death. As I look at my tiny, adorable daughter, I have a hard time going to a sad place. And I feel terrible about it. For so many years the only family I had was my Dad. And even that was touch and go given his mental state. Since around 2000 though, I could count on that family connection. It was comforting in a way I hadn't known before. In the last couple of years, my family has grown. I met my husband and therefore inherited his family who are all about family like I've never experienced. Then with my Father's accident came a bond with my sister that has grown to something truly wonderful, including having babies 7 weeks apart. And there is my Brother who has become a man people are compelled to adore given his struggles and what he has turned them into. So I sit here, mourning my Dad greatly and longing for the experience of him holding my little Miss Maggie in his great big arms. Yet, I am also fulfilled by the family that has transpired in his wake. Does this make me a bad person? Fulfilled even though I have lost him, my one true, constant family? I know he would be happy for me. And I know he is watching over me, Trent and Maggie from his motorcycle gas tank shaped urn on my bookshelf, but does he feel marginalized by my happiness? I hope not. I loved him so completely. Enough to overlook the irresponsible parenting and see the love that was there from a young man left with sole custody. I wish he could have held her though. My little angel. He would have been so in love. Maybe as in love as I am.