two years.

TWO YEARS. the fact is glaring, and obvious, and brightly lit in front of me. i knew over Thanksgiving that then was the two-year mark of my last time seeing and speaking with my dad. hugging him. sitting next to him. joking with him. being lectured for not checking my oil in my car.
TWO YEARS. the fact screams at me, like it's trying to force me to acknowledge my dad is never coming back. he's not going to show up at church one day. he's not going to come home for lunch tomorrow. in five more years, he still won't be here. in 18 more years, i will have not seen my dad in 20 years...and someday, that reality will be in front of me.
TWO YEARS. and i wonder if my brother will call this time. he must care..? is he hurting, too? should i be calling him? but i'm here. with my mom. he should call. he should call more often than he does anyway. he should visit our home more often than twice a year, too. for all intents and purposes, he should need us as much as we need him. we're family and we lost someone dear two years ago, and we need each other.
two years. i can't believe it. multiples of years. an S on the end of year. i still think to myself, "how did we get here?" partially because i don't really see how we've made it this long without my dad, but also because i just don't know how we got here. how we're here and he's not. it doesn't make sense in my confused head. it doesn't make sense at all.
24 years. that's how long i knew my dad. i'm so grateful for those 24 years, and i wouldn't trade those years in for anything. but two years is not a long enough time to be only grateful, and not sad. no, i will be a combination of grateful and sad on this day, and 364 others for the rest of my life.
i miss you, dad.