So today is Father's Day. And, as usually is the case, it is also the 13 year anniversary of my father's passing. And still, not a day goes by that I don't think of him.
I wonder what kind of person I would be if he were still alive. What would I have done differently in my life? What kind of relationship would we have? Would he still be the "hero" that I picture him as?
I'm upset that I was robbed of the opportunity to know my father as an adult, know him for the man he was. I mean, I've heard good and bad stories about him. Don't get me wrong. I know he wasn't a saint. But I was only 15 when he passed. We didn't get to the point where I hated him with that wonderful teenage angst. In some ways, my view of him is jaded, know what I mean?
I just wonder if he would be proud of who I've become, how I've turned out in life. I really wonder about that. I mean, I'm sure he's proud of me. And I'm sure he loves me no matter what.
I just sometimes rethink of when he was sick. And I know that what I went thru is difficult to process at any age, let alone 15. But I just wish I had done things differently. Spent more time with him or something. I will never forget the day that he came home from the hospital. I walk in the house to see my father lying on a hospital bed in the living room. He looked at me and reached out for me. I went over to him and he takes a pad of paper. He writes, "Daddy must be scary, huh?" And I shook my head no. It wasn't scary. It just wasn't my father lying there on that bed. The man who always held me during scary movies, the man I wrestled with, the man who braided my hair (yep, my dad could braid) and cut my bangs in that straight line across my forehead. (You can thank him for that look) haha. That wasn't my dad lying there on that bed, nothing but skin and bones, so frail, so delicate. My father should be out washing the car on the front lawn, not dying on some damn bed.
I still get angry. I wonder why he was taken from me and my family so soon. What plans could God have had for him that he needed to be stripped from us?
I'm angry. Angry he wasn't able to be there at my high school gradutation, angry he won't be there to walk me down the aisle on my big day, be there when I give birth to his first grandchild. My children will grow up knowing their grandfather as I knew mine, thru stories and pictures, never getting to know the wonderful man he was. I wonder what kind of grandfather he would have been.
I have so many unasnwered questions that run thru my head. I wonder if I ever will have the answers. I think that's a small reason why I still have a faith. I hope one day to see my father again. To hug him, smell him, hear his voice.
You'd think it'd be easy by now...but it still gets me. Oh sure, each year gets a little easier. I'm sure there are years I didn't cry. Sigh.
Anyhow. Happy Father's Day to all those dad's out there.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
my sister lost her dad when she was just a baby. we haven't ever really talked about it; maybe a little, but not really. i don't know.
but, i do know that she wouldn't be who she is now if that accident hadn't happened. right?
everything in life happens for a reason...i *think.* you did learn something valuable at the very young age you were when your dad passed--which is to cherish what you have when you have it. don't worry too much over the future, because you don't know what's going to happen. and don't dwell on the past, because it simply can't change. just be. and exist. and love the present.
can you imagine what it would be like to just appreciate the present as it happened? man, if everyone did, i don't think anyone would work at jobs they hated anymore. haha...
your dad is proud of you. he just wishes you would stop worrying so much! (oh wait! that's me!)
Thanks T.... I'll try. :D
Post a Comment