It's that time of year...

I've lost people in my life.  Both sets of grandparents, uncles, aunts, friends, and more furbabies than I can count.  But none have affected me as deeply as the loss of my father.

It'll be six years mid-February since my dad died.  Six years since I've heard his voice or felt his arms wrapped around me.  No...that's not true.  Dad visits me once in a while in my dreams and there are times, I swear, that I feel him hug me with the same strength and love he possessed when he was alive.  I love those dreams, for I truly believe his spirit is dropping by to say hi.

The man Dad was made me the woman I am.  His strength, his perseverance, his affinity for animals, his smile.  I miss him so damn much!

Some years, the anniversary of his death doesn't bother me much.  Oh, sure, I get a bit teary, but I'm able to go about my business without too much emotional upheaval.  Others, like this year for some reason I cannot fathom, send me into a tailspin. 

I'm moody, depressed, sad beyond belief.  I've been dreaming of him almost every night for more than a week.  Is he trying to tell me something?  Convey some message he thinks I need to know?  I'm listening, Dad.  I am.  Or has he merely stepped up his visits because he knows I'm having a hard time of it this year?

Dad died before I began writing.  He never had the chance to hold one of my books in his hand or read one of my interviews.  For those of you who don't know, my pen name is a tribute to him - his first name is Raymond.  Also, Abby's Heart is dedicated to him, as I released it on the second anniversary of his death.  My dad is so much a part of my writing life and I can only hope that I've made him proud.

I love you, Dad, and I miss you so much!  Thank you for being the person you were and for being such an influential part of my life.  You were a good teacher, an incredible role model, and a great friend. 

You still are...