Words unspoken

5 years is a long time.  1826 days (leap year counts!). 43,824 hours. 2,629,440 minutes (if I did my math right).  With all that time, I would think that the pain from loss would have eased a little bit by now.  I would think that I wouldn't be relieving and replaying every minute of each day that happened 5 years ago.  I guess that would make life too easy.

Tuesday, February 3rd, will mark 5 years since I last heard my dad's voice.  It will mark 5 years since he was able to say, "I love you and I am proud of you."  It will mark 5 years since I heard him say "Happy birthday."  I think about that day every single day.  Every year I replay it all starting in mid-January.  It is like a never ending tape.  It makes it nearly impossible to be happy about my birthday because all I think about is how much I miss him and how I will never get to hear his voice say those things again.
I think about all of the happy times, all of the ways that my dad made every day life so special. I think about the games, even the silly ones we would make up, and how much fun we had.  I think about every single thing he did and said to make sure I knew how much he loved me in the most unconditional ways. I think about all of these things and I cry.  I know I should be happy that I even had the chance to have him in my life at all, and I am.  I am grateful beyond words.  However I can't help but feel profound sadness that tomorrow when I am told "Happy Birthday," by friends and family, one of those voices won't be my dad's.

I love you, Papa.  I miss you.