Why having a colonoscopy was funny for everyone but me

So, I went for a colonoscopy last week. It was a surreal and not something I wish to repeat. Good news is – results came back normal! Yay! But the whole experience was not really fun at all. And since I googled a lot of “What will happen for a colonoscopy” and got nothing but scary things like, “Bring a TV into your washroom the day before” and “It will hurt” I thought I’d make this little cartoon of my experience (which was not that bad at all! Just mostly humiliating).
Firstly, I was not able to eat the entire day before surgery (and the morning of). Needless to say, Mama was hungry.

Then, while I was starving and miserable they gave me this stuff called Picolax. You can google what that stuff does. Or you can have my condensed version: You poop until you literally have nothing left inside you. At all. Then you poop some more.

I figured that everyone was being a giant baby. I drank the Picolax drink and was like, “Pffft, this tastes fine. I do not know what everyone is freaking out about.”

Little did I know.

So that was my entire day. It was a weird time.
The next morning, I feel the need to DRESS NICELY FOR MY COLONOSCOPY. For real. Who does that? I wear my best nautical themed dress with a cute belt. Obviously I am very nervous. My husband sees that and tries to distract me to no avail. I just keep looking around at all the people in the hospital waiting room. They look miserable. I assume they are also hungry.

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All of a sudden my name is called. I jump out of the seat and in a hurry the nurse tells my husband that he can pick me up in two hours. I ask if he can come in with me. She shakes her head because OF COURSE NOT. So in this confusion my husband takes my purse heads for the car and I head in with the nurse.

Then I realize he didn’t give me a kiss goodbye and I have no way to contact him. AND WHAT IF I DON’T MAKE IT?! So I’m tired, scared and now want to cry because I am ALL OVER THE MAP.

I get put into a room with 4 other people. All of whom are sleeping. I am looking into my future.
The same nurse tells me to change into those gross hospital gowns and relax on the bed under the blanket. I try not to think of how many people have died under this same blanket. I count ceiling tiles until she returns. My companions snore on.
She returns and has to give me a needle to put the saline in (and later the drugs that will put me in a ‘Twilight’ sleep. Which is basically truth serum.) She can see that I am terrified. Please remember guys, a camera is going up my butt. The fear is real.

After promising me that she is a ‘sharpshooter’ when it comes to veins, she digs around in my right arm for a good three minutes. No good. She moves to my right. I assure her that I will not think any less of her. She seems amused.


Suddenly a new nurse arrives named Mary. Mary is no nonsense but she takes pity on my scared face and talks me through as the saline starts pumping into my veins. I screech, “IS MY ARM SUPPOSED TO BE COLD?” and she smiles, nods and explains why. I feel I can trust Mary.

That is until I am wheeled into the ‘Operating Room’ or whatever it’s called. Its freezing and more people are there, welcoming me like an old friend back from sea. I can feel my heart start to jump and realize I have been my version of calm up until this point.
It is now that I start to panic.

Mary comes to the side of the bed, positioning me on my side and moving my arm so the tubes don’t get caught. I can see them injecting the drugs into my tube and am suddenly seized with the horrible feeling that I won’t make it out of this experience alive. They’ve put the oxygen mask on my face, likely to stop me from talking.

I start subtly moving about, trying to ask questions when suddenly I feel as if someone is holding my head against the table. (I realized later, this was what the drugs feel like; immense pressure in my head).

Suddenly my vision becomes very blurry. All my trust is gone for Mary. I assume in my stupor that she is holding down my head forcefully so I start calling out to her, heartbroken at her perceived betrayal.


I wake up a while later. I do not remember one single thing from my procedure. Not one. I have a moment of horror and wonder if I am a horrible secret racist or just a jerk under sedation. No one comments on that, so I assume I am in the clear.
I call out confused and raise myself until I am sitting on the edge of the bed. The tubes are out of my arm and I feel very, very tired and confused. All I want to do is go home and sleep in my own bed.

Mary is less patient with me now. Likely because I screamed her name in an accusatory manner right before passing out. I can hear my husband’s voice and I quickly get dressed after eating my juice and cookies. I hate apple juice, but at that moment, it is sweet nectar.
The nurse explains that due to my complaining during the procedure (which I do NOT remember), they had to give me more sedative than normal so I may be out of it for a bit. I stumble into my husband’s arms and he guides me out into the parking lot. I decide that this is the perfect place to catch a few Z’s.

He loads me into the car and I am understandably starving.


When I am denied my very reasonable request, I realize I have a missed message. Someone from work needs some information. I attempt to phone them, blearily trying to press the number keys on my phone before my husband takes my phone from me.


I then catch myself in the rearview mirror and find that I look like garbage. I feel I must rectify this immediately.




After I have been taken inside to the bed I made for myself on the couch before we left, I feel suddenly very concerned about my belt. I try again to call my work but my husband insists I give him a play-by-play of what I will say.


I should add that I have never in my entire life worked with someone named Shiela. Ever.
I do not make the call.

This happens 3 times over the course of an hour. I am convinced more than once that my belt has been stolen by someone at the hospital.


My mom and stepdad arrive at our place then, taking over for my husband who has to return to work. Walter decides to pour himself some juice, but I become concerned.

And then, just to make it worse I forget that I already have lipstick on and try to put more on. I am very frustrated and angry when people ignore my request.


Over and over and over. Then I got mad and went back to sleep on the couch. That day is a blur. I barely remember any of it happening. But just in case I forget, my husband lovingly recorded a lot of it for me to look back and reference. What a guy. In case you’re wondering what happened for the next 24-48 hours; it was this.


 So, if you’re afraid of having a colonoscopy, I totally get it.  But I for one had an okay experience – everyone is different, don’t assume that your experience will be awful! And If colon cancer runs in your family, or your doctor suggests that you need a colonoscopy – please don’t put it off. It could save your life!

Why living back at home wasn’t actually the worst

Hello my lovely readers!

I’m sorry I’ve been out of commission for so long!

As you know, our condo was sold and our move in date to our new home was a month out. So we stayed with my Mom and Stepdad for the month of June. I won’t lie, I thought it would be not great. I figured with my husband and I stuck in one small room with our bed and computer shoved in we would have an awful time.

And we totally didn’t!

I mean the room was small and the weather was SO FREAKING HOT. But aside from that, it actually exceeded my expectations. Along with labelling my cereal so that it resembled something funny (see previous entry), my Mom and Stepdad are the sweetest people alive.

But since I look at the negative in EVERYTHING, I figured that as soon as we moved in, my Mom and I would have a dynamic similar to this..


But more often than not, it was this:


With my stepdad, he’s a talker. He loves to talk and most of the time, so do I. But after long or miserable days at work, I expected to be ambushed like this:


But instead, it was like living at a Mexican resort.


The other major hurdle I expected to go through was…the Dreaded Baby Talk. I am rapidly approaching 30 and LOTS of people are doing the not so subtle – “So when are you having kids?” which only bugs me sometimes. I figured my Mom would take a less subtle approach.


Instead she was remarkably cool.


If I’m honest, the only one to give me grief about having kids was my STEPDAD. He waited until I was eating breakfast with my Mom and couldn’t get away and the conversation went thusly

Walter: “So, let’s get to it. When are you having kids?”

Me: *chokes on eggs* “Huh?”

Walter: “Kids. Are you having them? If so, when?”

Me: “Uh… I dunno. We’re thinking of going to Vegas for my 30th in November…maybe after that?”

Walter: “Aww c’mon, there’s always going to be trips!”

Me: “Uh, yep.”

Walter is silent a moment, thinking, looking very upset.

Walter: “Well fine. If you’re not having kids, your Mother and I are moving up North.”

My Mom, who has been silent this whole time starts laughing. Loudly.

Mom: “What the-? This is news to me!”

Mom and I start laughing and Walter grumbles about me and my husband always travelling while he does the dishes.

My Mom and I still mock him about it to this day.

He has since recanted on his threat of moving if I don’t have kids.

So while my Mom has been really cool about the no kids thing, I did stumble upon some strange things in the house.


No for real.

Those things were found in her possession.

Please understand that no one else in my family is even close to having kids.

So aside from that creepy little number, living with my Mom and Walt was actually awesome. I kind of miss them if I’m honest. Sometimes our new place feels too big and too quiet without some vaguely confusing remark from my Stepdad or my Mom’s braying laughter after we have discovered one of her “Cereal” jokes.

Gizmo misses them too, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

Why there’s been no cartoons!

Hello to all my lovely readers!
You’ve probably been going, “Where the heck is Katelyn? I was promised badly drawn cartoons with a humorous slant!”
I promise I will be back with those shortly!

My husband and I moved out of our condo at the end of May. Our new townhome wasn’t ready until the start of July. So we spent the month of June staying in a bedroom at my Mom’s place until our new home was ready. As a snapshot of what living with my Mom and Stepdad is like, here is some photographic documentation.


Yes. My mom did this to every box of cereal we brought into the house. Then she went out and bought some just so she could write more funny things on them. It was awesome.
We moved a few days ago into our new bigger place (I HAVE MY OWN ART STUDIO GUYS! FOR REAL!) As soon as we are settled in, the cartoons will be back I promise! :) In the meantime, I thank you so much for your patience and your continued support of the blog.

With affection,

29 things that strike me as Odd or Nice PART 2

A continuation from my PREVIOUS ENTRY Part 1. I hope you enjoy it! Even if you don’t, just pretend!

29 things that strike me as Odd or Nice Part 2

11. Leaving one single bite of food on my plate [Odd]

I never knew I did this until my husband and I went travelling with our Travel BFF’s and the wife randomly noticed my odd eating habit. Plus she would find random pieces of food (like the bottom of a muffin, or a half-drank soda) and just shake her head because she is a true friend and loves me despite my many food-based shortcomings. SHOUT OUT TO FRIENDS WHO DON’T JUDGE YOUR BAD LIFE DECISIONS.



12. Being Nice to Others [Nice]

One of my jobs involves working with a fellow with a disability. He is hilarious and sweet and needs help with some things you or I would take for granted. Last week we had a major breakthrough during our shift and I was literally on Cloud 9 for DAYS. I was overjoyed for my client and it spilled into my everyday life. I found that in those days following I had so much more love in my heart I would just start doing nice things for random people everywhere I went trying to spread this joyful feeling around. People I helped noticed and were touched (and some, afraid). Spreading joy feels awesome. If you haven’t done it, I suggest you do.



13. A desire for Snappy Comebacks [Odd]

You know my pain. I know you do. Someone says something annoying, offensive, etc and it takes you by SUCH surprise that you cannot even fathom what you would say in response until two hours later when you are replaying the conversation over in your head as you drive, gesturing wildly as you coast down the freeway getting angrier by the second. I wish when people asked me dumb questions I could have something witty to retort on the spot.


14. Things that are on sale [Nice]

When I find something that I like or really want and it is marked down in price, I get a feeling like my heart is doing the can-can. When a sale comes up and I don’t even know about it until I get to the till, I can barely even contain my glee. Once I walked into a store and didn’t know they were having a 50% off sale until I went to pay. It was the BEST SHOPPING EXPERIENCE EVER. It’s the little things in life.


15. Not having Dairy [Odd]

Okay, I know there are worse things in the world. You don’t need to tell me. But for real, I MISS DAIRY. It’s only been two weeks since I cut it out of my diet (KINDA) because know what? DAIRY IS IN EVERYTHING I LIKE!


They sneak it into stuff that you wouldn’t think about! Even salad dressing! And going out for dinner used to be one of my favorite things but now when we go everything I like has dairy so I get really bummed out.




16. Feeling Young [Nice]

At my other job, I work with seniors. Like for real seniors, some over 100. They are the sweetest people alive and in a really selfish way, they boost my ego on a daily basis. Every time I walk down the halls they say to me; “Oh you are so beautiful!” and “Oh you’re so young you have so much time!” or “Look at that hair! Gorgeous!” Even on days when I look like garbage that’s been left out for days. They are so genuinely sweet and kind and I bet they don’t even realize how much their words brighten my day (even though I tell them!)

On the other hand, I guess it’s sad that I need seniors citizens to make me feel young.

17. My weird attachment to Authors [Odd]

There have been two times I’ve missed work when I haven’t been sick. Once was when JD Salinger died and once was when Ray Bradbury died. These are authors whose work has genuinely touched my life at different times. When I read Catcher in the Rye I am 17 again, going “Holden Caulfield GETS me” (like most people at 17 believe). I believe that books partly shape us into the people we become. Authors are like magicians, they can weave this amazing world you can get lost in. That holds a lot of nostalgia and tenderness for those books and times. So when they die, I guess I feel like an old friend is suddenly gone. Please don’t ask me why I thought missing work would help, because all I did was lock myself in the bedroom, read their books and cry because I would never get to meet them. Yeah, I definitely believed I would meet them. What would we talk about? Good question. All I know is that when Stephen King dies, I am going to be a WRECK because those books WERE my life for a really long time!

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18. People who still use the ‘R’ word. [Odd]

If you use this word on purpose, even as a joke, I hate you a little bit.

It’s 2015.

For real. Get your life together.

19. Being too Sensitive [Nice]

I was going to list this under Odd, but you know what? I think it’s nice that I’m sensitive. And sentimental. I think it’s nice that I have a box of movie ticket stubs and mementos from my years with my husband. I think it’s nice that I have the agenda my Dad used to write in for work. I like that I am there for my friends and sensitive to their needs. I think it’s because I have a tender heart and I don’t think a tender heart is a bad thing at all!

Unless a tender heart is a sign of congenital heart disease. Then I’m screwed.

20. When people don’t find the same things funny as me [Odd]
You know when you show someone something on YouTube that you literally almost died laughing from and then they don’t laugh and you are simultaneously embarrassed and also super pissed off and also want to punch them super hard? No? That’s just me? Oh okay.









Okay, I know I still have to go to 29 but you’ll have to wait for Installment 3 for the rest! I like installments. It means I’m not rushing through, plus it’s like a series! Fun! Speaking of donating (see how I snuck that in?) if you are enjoying my blog and are feeling generous, I am just gonna leave the donate link HERE.

It goes to operational costs and to me because I do all this for free JUST to make YOU laugh! Aren’t I nice?

Why I am miserable (kind of)

So, this title is pretty misleading because as I type this I am not miserable. I am tired and cranky, but if I’m real, I’m tired and cranky a lot.

But some miserable things happened this week (which are complete First World Problems) and since blogs are about letting out inner thoughts and feelings, that’s what I’m gonna do.

Firstly, I SUCK at returning facebook messages and I feel like a HUMAN GARBAGE PAIL about it. Like, someone messages me a month ago, I forget about it thinking ‘I will respond to this’ and then I forget and I look like a HUGE JERK-FACE.

Secondly, we are moving into a bigger place. Our move-out/move-in dates didn’t coincide, so my husband, cat and I are living with my Mom and Stepdad for a month. They’re literally the COOLEST parental units. I am just not stoked at commuting, paying the toll every day and genuinely being away from a ton of my friends and social contacts! Plus all my art supplies are packed away so I feel weird.

And everyone goes, “It’s only a month!”

Uh, yeah. I can read a calendar. Still not stoked about it.

And if I’m honest, I am a VERY sentimental person! I keep looking at our little condo and getting super sad that we are leaving. Its full of memories -and a lot of them good! I look at the threshold that my husband carried me over on our wedding day. I look at the artroom/office/everything room and remember hurriedly making a ton of orders for Christmas. Everywhere I look holds memories of the life we have built so far and I get sentimental about it.

It doens’t mean I don’t want to move – it just means I have emotions.

But everytime I try to just tell people how I feel, everyone jumps on me and goes: “But you know you’ll LOVE you new bigger place! That will feel like home in no time!”


Of course I will.

But I’m really bummed I’m leaving what was my home for 5 years. Let me be sad about it. Its okay to be sad for five seconds. Its called being a non-robot. Seriously, try it once in a while. Its okay. Its like people are not comfortable with any emotion that isn’t jubilant elation. I don’t get it.
And now a bunch of our furniture is gone so it looks less like our home and more like where a serial killer lures his victims.


Then because we won’t have our kitchen for much longer, I decide I want to make RUM BALLS because YES, they are in fact the BEST THING EVER.


So I get all the ingredients together and start and then realize..oh right. I need to grab Rum. You know, the INGREDIENT THAT IS IN THE TITLE? And even though rum and cokes are my favorite drink, guess what’s not in our cupboard?



(I warned you. First World Problems).

Then I Netflixed binged on a bunch of my favorite cancelled shows and I went to a really dark place.


And then on Sunday I decided to NOT be a lazy slob and my husband and I did a lot of walking. We had dinner plans that evening with friends so we rushed up to the apartment. And the following happened as we were getting on the elevator.



So the entire night was garbage because a.) I was REALLY excited about having dinner with our friends b.) We have to wait a bunch of weeks to even get the keys BACK from the elevator shaft and c.) . Even though the locksmith was really nice and has a semi-famous daughter (which he proudly showed me on his phone) I was not stoked that we blew $150 bucks to have someone let us into our condo to grab my back up set of keys. Because for real. I think it took him like maybe 3 minutes but we had to pay the weekend rate.

And I think if I’m really honest with myself, I think the thing that made me most miserable is that I’ve been having a lot of digestive issues and my new doctor (that was 30 minutes late for our first appointment and didn’t even acknowledge it) told me to cut out dairy. And I think my look when she said that was something akin to this:

Guys. I live for cheese. Like, it’s a problem.

I went to the grocery store and PANICKED because I do NOT know what cooking is without dairy! Its in EVERYTHING! So I just left my grocery cart in the middle of an aisle and walked home crying because I was imagining a future without cheese and I could NOT deal.
So between lack of rum balls, moving, premature show cancellations, husband dropping keys down elevator shaft and NO EFFING DAIRY I am feeling less than chipper.

So that’s my miserable post. I hope it made you smile and not miserable! If it DID make you miserable, I promise that my next one won’t! (I hope) It will be Part 2 to my epic; 29 things that strike me as Odd but Nice.

Lastly but MOST importantly– There is a very bright spot in my miserable week: I have had a BUNCH of new followers and subscribers to the blog which makes my withered blackened heart jump with joy! Thank you to my loyal readers for enjoying the horror that is sometimes my life!

Why my cat is a terror

Hey guys, my husband and I are now officially the owners of a 4 bedroom 4 bathroom townhome. I know what you’re thinking – FOUR BATHROOMS?! THAT IS THE PINNACLE OF LUXURY. And you know what? You’d be correct. In fact, the first thing I thought was; “Gizmo will have a bathroom all to himself!
If you are just starting to read this blog, Gizmo is my 5-year-old toilet trained cat and if I’m honest, I talk about him a lot.I bolded the words ‘toilet trained cat’ so you’d sort of know the person you’re dealing with.
Gizmo was adopted from the SPCA, he was the runt of the litter and the cutest little peanut I had ever seen in my entire life. I could hold him in one hand and he fell asleep EVERYWHERE. He was in a foster home at the time and I fell in love instantly.


My husband, not so much.

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You have to know that I get attached to some things VERY quickly. Like, weirdly so. We had seen Gizmo TWICE for about 15 minutes each time and I was already weirdly devastated that my husband wasn’t on board. So much so, that I felt like I needed some closure.



So of course, my husband being who he is could not stand to see me so heartbroken and immediately gave in. (Note: I was not trying to cry and get my way! I was legit just really sad I had to say goodbye). So we brought him home and in no time, my husband was just as adoring of him. One day he stopped by Granville Island and brought Gizmo home a little fish shaped toy. (I should note, he did not bring ME home anything.)

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It was precious.
We were a happy little family of three.


We noticed certain little idosyncrasies later on as he matured. He had been so affectionate towards my husband and I, but with everyone else he was NOT. In fact, he was rather aggressive.
Its true. Somewhere along the lines, Gizmo got so used to it just being the 3 amigos, that he started getting weirdly protective about us. Like, Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction weird.




And it was never a huge issue, until we put our condo up on the market a couple months ago. Please understand, to sell a condo in this day and age, you have to have open houses. Where you leave and strangers go through your place and decide if they dig it and secretly judge your designing skills. We left Gizmo in the condo during the first open house, assuming that with all the people he would likely hide or just chill on his cat tree.
We were wrong.
We came back after the first open house to find our Realtor waiting.



Imagine coming into a condo and having an overweight cat STALK you from room to room hissing and likely meowing in that creepy was he does that sounds like bigfoot looking for its mate. Its horrific.
So we decided we would just put him in the carrier and take him with us during open houses.
He was not stoked.


We tried taking him to the park. My husband had gone off somewhere and I had opened the cage for Gizmo because he seemed stuffed up. He was not planning on going anywhere. Instead, he sat there, GLARING at everyone who passed us.


Suddenly these two obnoxious little tweens walked by us.

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I had to agree with them. Gizmo looked like a demon in a carrier case. I tried lightening the awkwardness.


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So we decided a new approach. A leash.
I literally don’t know which one was worse.


I feel like the following photo pretty much sums up exactly what walking Gizmo in a leash was like.



One day we had an open house happening but I was working late. So I put Gizmo in his carrier on our balcony for an hour top. When the showing was over, our Realtor went to let him out of his carrier to have free reign in the house. Of course he was a holy terror.


This just shows the dedication of the woman. If I were affronted with a MANIC cat, literally growling and trying to bite me through the cage, I’d be like, “Yeah, you’re owners are home tonight, bye!” Nope. This woman dug around to find a POT HOLDER, to open the cage.


And instead of being grateful, of course Gizmo literally turned on her. Since our Realtor is familiar with cats, she pushed the open cage towards the center of the room to give herself time to BOOK IT OUT of our condo! OUR CAT IS A MONSTER.


So truthfully, Gizmo was just bugging the crap out of me. I would literally stress out every time we had a showing because I’d be going, “What are we going to do with Gizmo?!” I would look at him angrily, shake my head and say dumb stuff like, “Gizmo, This behavior is unacceptable!” like he could actually UNDERSTAND me while my husband laughed at us from the couch.
So yeah, my cat sometimes really sucks. Sometimes I wish he was like other cats and would stop being a creep.




It’s been a year, Daddio.

For those of you upset by sad things, this is not the blog entry for you. Next week will be better, I hope.

This Friday it will be one year since my Daddio passed away. I hate every word that is associated with death. Pass away, left us, died, gone. I hate all of them. There will never be an okay word that says, “My dad’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

It’s been a year and lots has happened since you “left”.

– I got accepted into grad school! Can you believe it? I loved it! But I only stuck around half a semester. I really did enjoy so much about it, but I was not 100% sure it’s what I wanted to do with my life at this point. That’s okay. You taught me I could do anything, Dad. You told me my big heart was an asset and that it made you proud. I’ll figure it out one day. Meanwhile I am using my big heart every day that I see someone who needs it.
– We took my little sister to Disneyland, just like you asked us to. Most of the time it was really great. I love spending time with her (how she thinks and takes in the world astounds me sometimes) and I think the magic of Disney was pretty neat. But, during the World of Color show they showed the part in the Lion king where Mufasa dies and Simba is going, “Dad? Dad? C’mon, you gotta get up” and we were not okay. I started crying in the middle of Disneyland during the fireworks because you couldn’t see them. I’m sad you couldn’t take her yourself, even though I know you HATED crowds.
– I started a side art business; And especially during Christmas time, it did SUPER well! I was so proud thinking that these pieces I had made would be hanging in people’s homes! I remember you coming to my high school to buy the ugliest print I’d ever made in art class. It was of a pink sparrow or something. I remember feeling so grateful for you that day, that you would spend your money on one of my ugly pieces! You hung it up on your wall with pride and I remember going, “Dad take it down!” and you chuckling and refusing.
– Hubby and I went to Hawaii. Mom says you guys went there together when you were young. But we did the big Island, I think you were more into the resort-y type areas like Maui or Oahu. (Turns out, I am too! Lava is not my thing!). Some days when it was especially beautiful, I cried because you weren’t here to see it.
– We sold our condo – and it was very stressful for me!!!! I know I would have texted you like I always did, asking for sage advice, because you always gave the BEST advice. On the phone, in person, over text. It was always the BEST advice. And I know you would have said something that would have made me realize how silly I was being freaking out about something I couldn’t control. Good news is, it’s sold so I’m freaking out a little less (but hi, I’m Katelyn,  I worry about WORRYING).
– We bought a townhouse. It is wonderful and has 4 bathrooms, which to me is the pinnacle of luxury and something I know you would appreciate. When I saw the guestroom I felt my heart twinge a bit. Whenever I had envisioned my own guest rooms in the past, it would be you coming down for a visit and occupying them. My heart still hurts when I think of the things you won’t be here for.

I’m still mad at you a little bit. I’m still mad at the doctors for being so slow on acting on your deteriorating health even when I had mentioned months before that you weren’t looking well. I am mad that you didn’t take your health seriously. I am mad at all the people who told me that “it gets easier” because they lied. It doesn’t. You just get better at managing when you break down. I am SO mad that if I ever get around to having kids, you won’t be here to see them or give me advice on how to be a good parent because I KNOW you were full of amazing advice. Who will be my children’s ‘Papa’? That was supposed to be you! I’m pissed off that without you here I feel like I’ll never fully enjoy things that my friends with parents still alive will. I’m scared sometimes because you’re not here and I guess it’s because I felt like you were one of the few people who knew me, the real me. You saw me.

Friday is going to be so hard. Actually, if I’m honest this entire year has been hard. Normally I don’t work Friday’s, but I picked up an extra shift because staying home alone would make it harder. I always think of how hard a worker you were. I remember your boss had to force you to take vacation because you LOVED what you did. I love that you loved to help people, Dad. You were so good at it. You helped me so many times I thought I was lost.
Some of the people you left here are big jerks. I wish you were here to straighten them out in only the way you could. Gently but firmly. I miss that about you.
I keep going to text you or call you and then remembering.
Whenever I hear Patsy Cline, I sing along for you and Grandma because you both loved her and you’re both gone. I sing my heart out, imagining you can hear me. I pretend you are both sitting there listening and smiling at me. Then I open my eyes and not shockingly, you are not there.
I used to beg and pray that you would haunt me. I would have taken a ghostly version of you over nothing any day. But no matter how much I look, I still haven’t seen you. There have been many signs of you watching over me, but I dismiss them. I want to see your face. I want one last hug. I know I will never get those things but I can’t stop wanting them.
I saw a guy who looked like you at Starbucks the other day. Like, a LOT like you. He dressed like you, his hair was like yours, he even did that crooked way of leaning that you used to do when he was putting cream in his coffee. I watched him, mouth agape as he went about his business. I wanted to rush over and hug him. I wanted it to be you so badly, Dad. I felt myself shaking and I bolted from the coffee shop leaving my poor husband bewildered.
I walked behind an older guy with cowboy boots when I was grocery shopping last week. I found myself going closer and closer to him, watching his boots hit the floor. I know how much you loved to cook too. I bet you liked grocery shopping. I never asked you. I wonder if you did. I remember the pair of your cowboy boots that I kept after the funeral. They sit in my closet, looking sad because you’re not there to wear them. I was sad that the man at the grocery store was wearing boots like yours. I think I will always get upset when I see the kind of cowboy boots you wore on someone other than you.
I’m trying to be a good big sister to my three siblings. I feel sometimes like I need to be better, be stronger for them. I try to give advice you would give. I try not to get frustrated so easily. I try to tell them how much you would respect and love their choices and their successes because I know you would. A few months ago they all called me at separate times during the span of several hours upset and missing you and it made my heart break all over again because I couldn’t do anything to help them. I ended up sending them trinkets off of eBay to hopefully brighten their day. I see they are changing too. In good ways, I see you influence in all of them. They are all good, kind, loving people you helped raise. I am proud to be their sister, I am proud to be your daughter.
I am sad that I get to be alive and you don’t. I feel guilty every day I don’t enjoy every second of life because I feel like I am living for you too, a life you didn’t get to finish and I am wasting it. I know that I have changed since you left. Sometimes I think it’s good, when I do something I’ve been afraid to do or show patience when something would normally upset me. Sometimes I think it’s bad when I can’t sleep because I am afraid any of my loved ones will be taken from me.
I don’t really get the point of death. I guess it’s so we enjoy the time we have here, right? Thing is, I could have enjoyed my time on earth with you still in it. I’ve realized after a year that I am unsatisfied with not knowing what awaits me for sure. I am upset that you haven’t come to me in some Mufasa-in-the-clouds type of way to let me know all is well. I know that this is the mystery of death and something we all must face alone, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it or even agree with it.
We are all going to go visit your brother, mom and sister (and our many cousins) in Ontario this summer. You would be amazed and humbled at how your brother has welcomed us into his home for our stay and just how supportive he has been since you “left”. (I don’t like left because it makes it seem like you had a choice). We are all very excited to see your old stomping grounds, see where you hung out when you were a kid. We are all so excited to have you alive in more stories I guess.
You taught me a lot when you were alive, Dad. You taught me a lot when you died too, just in a different way.
I don’t know how to end this letter, so I guess I’ll just say: Until we meet again, Daddio.

My Dad is the adorable guy in the middle. That's his older bro and younger sister on either side of him.

My Dad is the adorable guy in the middle. That’s his older bro and younger sister on either side of him.

My Dad with his horse and me! Circa the mid 80's. Even then, you can tell I was not a fan of horses.

My Dad with his horse and me! Circa the mid 80’s. Even then, you can tell I was not a fan of horses.

I have no idea what this is from. All I know how much  love it.

I have no idea what this is from. All I know how much love it.

Back when Dad thought that black hair was a solid idea. I liked the salt and pepper personally. We had lots of talks about his hair over the years. :)

Back when Dad thought that black hair was a solid idea. I liked the salt and pepper personally. We had lots of talks about his hair over the years. :)

And lastly, Daddio doing what he did best. Making people laugh.

And lastly, Daddio doing what he did best. Making people laugh.