I miss you, PaPa. I suspected that I may never recover from losing you, and the pain is more than I ever could have imagined. My heart hurts a physical hurt when I think of you not being here with me. Today is your birthday. Deep down I have dreaded this week more than the others, because this is the first time that we will not celebrate our birthdays together. I dread knowing that I will not get your call on Thursday morning, singing me happy birthday. I dread knowing that I will not be standing by your side this weekend, hearing happy birthday to PaPa and Kelly. Because now it's just me, and I feel alone without you. You were always my biggest champion. I never thought of myself as pretty, or smart, or kind, or special in any way. But you always told me all of those things, with your words, all the time: you are beautiful, you are smart, you are thoughtful, you are special, you are so special to me, I love you, I love you, I love you. I think sometimes God puts people in our lives to tell us the things we don't feel about ourselves, to demonstrate His love for us, and you were that person for me. I know that I was treasured beyond measure by you, my beloved PaPa, my champion, my confidant, my friend. Thank you for loving me, just for being me. I never had to try to impress you, or worry what you thought of me. You just loved me, and I hope you knew how much you are loved in return. I hope I told you enough. I miss you, PaPa.
