July 22, 2002.
I still remember coming home that afternoon to a house full of people. My Mom telling me to sit down and pretty much entertain while she was on the phone (later I would learn she was telling my Dad’s older sister about his passing at the time). Not really feeling like talking I told our guests that I was going upstairs to change because I had a date that evening and wanted to chill out a little beforehand. A little while later, coming out of my room I see her walking upstairs with two other people – which was strange because she never came upstairs, let alone with others. I remember the conversation – her asking me to sit next to her on my bed. Her saying “Your Dad died. He had a heart attack. He died instantly”.
Not even pausing to let the words sink in, not believing what I was hearing – I ran down the hall to my office and called my cousin Kandice who was in Sam’s with my Uncle Keith. I can still hear her breaking down in tears over the phone and me hanging up on her because I was still in shock and didn’t believe what I’d just been told. Then calling my sister Catrice, and all she could say was “Kelli I’m so sorry. Kelli I’m so sorry”. My response was simple, “I’m sorry too”. Her passing the phone to her husband and then Shannon. What they said to this day I can’t remember. My sense of shock at that moment was REAL.
Then hanging up because I still could not believe it and then, just a few seconds later, breaking down as my Mom stood outside the locked door begging for me to let her in and me just saying to myself in between the sobs, “I want my Daddy. I just want my Daddy”.
I still remember…
July 22, 2012.
Ten years later…
Today I’d wanted to write you a letter. I need to. I want you to know that just because you are not here with me, because I can’t see or feel you physically, because some days I may try to block some memory that pops into my head of you – that does not mean that I don’t love you and I don’t miss you more than you’ll ever know.
The feelings that I have – these emotions – they are a mixture of pain, loss, and confusion. But it is also love. Ten years have passed but it still feels so fresh, so new.
I still remember…
July 22, 2002 – July 22, 2012.
I used to think about what it would be like to loose a parent. Maybe it’s the “only child” in me – or maybe I’m just morbid like that. But trust, it’s a thought I dare not think about any longer.
At age 20 all I could think was that it was way to young for me to be burying a parent. At age 30 I am still thinking the same thing.
You’ve really missed a lot in the last 10 years. You didn’t get to see me walk across any stage since my high school graduation. You didn’t get to see me throw my law degree away (and I know you LOVED that). You were not there for the opening of my first, or second Quiznos. You missed the births of both Colin and Jayden. You’ve missed the good times and the bad. You missed my growth and evolution (still a daily thing) as I try to become the person, the woman, you and Mom dreamed of.
You won’t be there to walk me down the aisle. You’re not there to complain to Mom about me so she could fuss and you’ll still end up looking like the “good parent” (yea i figured out your trick at some point in college). You won’t be there to love, and spoil your grandchildren – and bribe them with candy like you would Little Winston. You won’t be there to say “Kelli-Kelli” EVER AGAIN…
For 10 years I’ve endured more than I’d expected. Loved. Lost. Achieved. Failed. I realize that had you lived, had you been here, my life would have been different. I don’t want to question God’s plan for us, for me – but at times I do. Mainly because I don’t understand it. I mean, how could he take you from me? My father. My Daddy.
At times I get angry. I still feel a since of guilt like – like I should have seen this coming. I should have pushed you to go to the doctor. I should have just forced you to go to the hospital. I should have taken you there myself. These emotions are real. Sometimes I wish it were me and not you. I wish I had just done more. I wish I had been a better child – gotten better grades, didn’t always try to push that envelope just so far at times. I wish I could have been the perfect child. I wish I had done more, had achieved more while you were here just so I knew you were proud of me. I wish I had told you I loved you one more time. I just wish you understood how much I love you. I wanted to tell you these things then and I want to tell them to you now.
I still remember…
July 22, 2012.
Ten years later…
I’m angry. I’m so so angry. Yes, I’m STILL angry. Hell I’m hurt.
I wish you had done more. I wish you had cared enough about me and everyone who loved you so much and had just gotten up and gone to the hospital when you started feeling bad.
I am so, so angry – with you and with me. We were just getting to know each other again. We were planning for the future – to take over the world in a since. You were going to teach me everything you knew about the law. I was going to follow in your footsteps and one day take over. Only you knew and understood the pain that you were in. Why didn’t you just go to the doctor? Why?
I still remember…
July 22, 2012.
Ten years later…
Because of you I am who I am to this day. Because of you I am stronger, I work harder than anyone I know, I strive to be the person you dreamed of me to become. Because of you I am where I am today. Because of you I dream big, work hard to achieve all goals, and love hard. Because of you I am Kelli E. Caulfield. For that I say thank you.
I know and understand that all things happen for a reason. That we are going through life based on God’s design and not our own. When times get tough, and my shoulders get heavy, and my chest starts to fill up, I still say the words that I started saying the day of your memorial service as I walked into the chapel “All things happen for a reason. I love you Dad”. There is a continuous hole in my heart that will never be filled until I see you again. There is an emptiness that I can never comprehend. But there is a blessing in knowing that Ernest Lee Caulfield, Esq was, is, my Dad. What you did for me while you were here – and what you are doing for me from up there – words can never express my gratitude. I just hope and pray that I am making you proud and if I’m not now – one day I will.
And maybe I’m being selfish when I say this but honestly I do not care. I love you. I miss you. I know that you and Papa are looking down on me each and every day. I know you’re always there for me to talk to – because I do. I just hope you’re not too mad with some of the decisions I have made and will continue to make – and directions I decide to take.
Today. Ten years later, I understand that “All things happen for a reason”. But all I really want is a hug from my Daddy and to hear you say “Kelli-Kelli. Be good” one last time.
I love you Daddy.
THE ENTREPRENEGRO 