Today will be three years

Since my dear daddy passed away.
It's hard to believe.
Most days I still expect to see him walk through the door.
Or see him pat my mom's butt when she walks by.
Or watch him watching my kids.
When we are together as family, if I close my eyes, I can almost hear him chuckling.
I can almost feel his hand on my hair.
Or see him touch my babies as they run by.
Almost.
The hurt never stops. The missing never eases.
Every day, I wish he could just hold my kids. That my baby girl could have crawled into his lap and found the same comfort and safety there that I did.
That my boys could have run to him to tell them about their boyish adventures.
That I could hear the yell Peepaw and see his face light up with a bemused smile.
That I could say Daddy and have him call me Punk in that exasperated tone of voice one more time.
Tomorrow, I will hold my babies close and tell them about their PeePaw in the stars. The one who watches over them every day. The one who loved them so much.
Three years watching my children grow passes in a instant. Three years without my daddy is a lifetime.