Never gave this day much thought really. Always did the obligatory card and phone call. Not really giving it 100% or really recogising what it was really about other than the commercialism of it all. Not until two years ago. Well not really two whole years but two fathers days ago. When I realised that I didn't have to buy a card and a gift. That the chore that at times frustrated me wasn't necessary anymore. Dad wasn't here anymore to recieve them.
It still is so very raw. The death of a parent is a fact of life. People get old and they die. Sad but unfortunately unavoidable. The unexpected and violent death of a parent I think is incomprehensible. The unaswerable questions are torture, they rattle around in my head til I bury them away. Then of course they come and bite my arse when I least expect it.
Then there are the days designed to make you think about fathers and their influences, fathers day being one of them. How I reflect on past years when the conversations were trite and my aim of the call was to see if I could get Dad to stay on the phone longer than the last time we spoke. So I would ask stupid questions about weather and orchids etc. No depth to the conversation, nothing I can draw on to bring me comfort in my times of despair re his passing.
So I think about fathers day and my father and try to remember the good fun times when it was all about fathers and daughters. No outside influences. The places we would go and the things we would see. Then I recall the terrible day the policeman stood at the door preparing to tell me the awful news. And I get angry that even when I am filled with warm and fuzzies and memories, reality checks in and the pain consumes once again.
Happy Fathers Day dad. I really hope you knew how much I loved you. I wonder if you know just how much I miss you. How I still go to pick up the phone to tell you something. How I cannot erase your number from my phone book or email contacts. Cos to erase them is to let go. And I don't want to let you go, not ever.
I LOVE YOU.
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