“These days the quiet is a curious thing…”
My father has been dead for 10 years. I didn’t write about this last week when the anniversary occured. I would like to say it was because I was busy. I would like to say it was because the day passed without me even realizing it was there. I would like to say that after a decade it doesn’t really affect me that much.
Those would all be lies.
I knew it was coming. I watched the days pass and the anniversary get closer. I spent many random moments during random days in August upset and crying. I felt lost and confused. Sometimes I found myself still angry at God, even though I’m no longer sure that’s a valid response. I talked to dad. I know he can’t really hear me, but I voiced words and hopes to him and wondered how different my life would be if he were here.
I looked at th man I will marry in just a few weeks and felt peace, knowing my dad would love him and approve of him and the way he takes care of me. I thought about the future. Not just mine, but the future of my sister and my brothers and my stepmom. I thought about the family I have that I haven’t seen in the better part of a decade. I thought about loss. I thought about being 27 and having a piece of my life missing. I thought about the time quickly approaching when my dad will have been dead for more of my life than he was alive.
Mostly, though, I just thought about the great man he was. The way he lived what he said. The way he didn’t mince words, but instead said what was on his heart. The way he taught me to love. The way he accepted everyone, even if he didn’t understand their beliefs. The way his kids were his life. The way he laughed.
The selfish and angry part of me wants to scream out and curse the world for taking him away. The part of me at peace counts myself blessed that I had 17 years with him, even though he lived a couple hours away and we didn’t see each other often.
Either way, he’s my dad.
I love him.
I miss him.
I will always love him.
I will always miss him.