Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter

Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It’s all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces

Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It’s all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It’s all right

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It’s all right

It’s all right

We buried my father a year ago, today.

The fact that it has been an entire year both amazes and breaks me. There have been moments of utter heartbreak and grief so unbearable it has felt as if the next breath taken would be my last. And then there have been moments of peace, serenity and comfort at knowing that my Dad is in a far better place.

But still, he’s gone.

No more phone calls to hear him wish me a Happy Birthday or to talk horse racing, no more thumbs up in family pictures, no more times hearing him call me “Bunny” or say, “I love you.” Those moments lie only in the depths of my heart and at the forefront of my mind as I’ve tried to process everything that has happened this past year without him while still consciously reminding myself to live in the present moment(s).

My father was my anchor. Rooted in all things determinant of perseverance and moxie, my father was the first man I ever adored and the measure for what I looked for in a mate. And he was such a good man. His family was his center and his ability to rise above his station defined how he viewed his level of success in this life. He was simple yet robust, affable yet unforgiving. Passionate and spirited, his wisdom for the world shaped much of my perspective on work ethic, loyalty and devotion to family and God.

I’ve spent so much of this past year thinking; processing, absorbing…and reflecting. The life I live is because of the sacrifices my father made. When I think about what it must have been like to leave your home – not as a youth, but as a man – to chart a new course in life and find a path for your purpose, I can’t imagine what my Dad must have gone through. He never really shared his fears about coming to this country a non-English speaking person nor his fears about the challenges this new country and life would present him. No. He wasn’t that kind of person to begin with.

My Dad was one of the most resilient people I’ve ever known. His ability to push through pain, defeat, fear, rejection and frustration astounded me as I was growing up. And his zeal, zest and optimism for life captivated me. I’d give anything to go back to a Wednesday afternoon circa 1994 and have a moment with my Dad in his Toyota Camry on our way to dance at Diana Evans. These moments were the foundation of our relationship; our discovery of who each other was and how much we both were so proud of each other. They were packed full of country music listening, talks of the farm and my school and our hopes and dreams weaved carefully into our conversations as my Dad tried to encourage yet not overwhelm me. He was considerate in that way – and yet deliberate in so many others.

When I won the title of Miss Kentucky – I remember the out of body experience that consumed me until reality settled in and I was able to begin somewhat processing what was occurring. I remember the look of happiness on my Mom and Dad’s faces and the tears in their eyes as we posed for pictures and all hugged each other as a family.

Walking across the stage at Miss America with my Dad by my side during the evening gown competition is the only moment outside of dancing with him at my wedding, that I will hold so closely to my heart it would seem my intention were to hide them from the rest of the world. And maybe I am. Because those two moments in and of themselves were the culmination of all of the memories in between that got us to where we were at those exact moments.

I will cherish them forever, with everything in me.

The Beatles became an obsession of mine when I was in middle school. I’m not even going to attempt to downplay this level of obsession because any and all of my family members (and close friends) could totally rat me out and probably show pictures to prove my level of fandom.

George Harrison wrote, Here Comes the Sun, and it was one of my Dad’s favorites. We never really spoke about why, only that he just loved that song. The other day I found myself in the car on a three hour road trip home from one of my furthest markets. Here Comes the Sun on the Blue Album, also contains Hey, Jude (of which our third baby is affectionately named after) and it is one of my all-time favorite albums. We’ve been listening to it a lot lately because our Baby Jude loves singing it when we’re in the car.

But even with it readily available to play, I’ve been avoiding playing that song .

This song defines this past year without my Dad. And, like everything – life still goes on around us. Each day, we find a way to return the smiles to our faces, to see the beauty in watching the ice melt away like a metaphor for shedding all the weight that grief has brought about. And to fully accept that while it seems like it’s been years since we’ve been here – we’ve only really just begun this journey without him.

But, it’s all right.

Miss you more than ever Dad. Love you til the end of time.

Your Bunny