Saturday, October 25, 2008

Here's Your Lunch Money

This is my favorite picture of dad. When I write or speak of dad, I just say "dad" and not "my dad," because I like the idea that I can include others in his life and share him with them. There are a list of things that I admire about dad, but the one I'm most grateful for was the way he loved. He had a way of putting you at ease, making you laugh, he could draw you into his conversation, he had the greatest insights, and he always had your best interest at heart, and he was never ashamed to show his love.

I stood up to express my thoughts about dad during the family services on the day of his funeral. I said that of all the things I had ever wanted to do for dad, standing there on that day speaking about him was not one of them. It was naive to think that such a day would never happen, but it was something I never wanted to see happen.

Each morning, since the day of the funeral, I woke to a new day and went through the motions of living-- because, after all, life goes on. But it didn't stop me from being astounded at how the world continued on without dad. In my heart, I felt a sense of bitterness and outrage! How dare the world act as though dad's death was just another event in a series of events that happen day-by-day...and life rolls on by! I wanted acknowledgement of his loss by some thing, some one. I wanted the world to feel my loss! I wanted the world to acknowledge that my father was a good man, a great man!

It is difficult to walk the line between child and adult when I think of these things. The child in me would greatly prefer to sit down on the curb and cry my eyes out; the adult in me realizes that it is only temporary. But I still long to be the child, and openly mourn my father's loss. I stare deeply at his picture and the words "come home, daddy" are stuck in my throat wanting so much to be spoken out loud. But saying those words would only make it more painful--and saying it wouldn't make it so. But dad, I want so badly to say, "come home." I want to scream those words from the roof tops if I knew it would make a difference. I miss the happy sound of your voice, and I miss holding your hand. Holding hands with you was one of my favorite things to do. I miss the letters you would send me and your "here's your lunch money" post scripts. I miss you dad. I miss you every day and I'll miss you even longer than that.

1 comment:

Siana Burgess said...

Hi Rita, I really appreciated this post. I started to write "enjoyed" reading it, but what is there to enjoy about all the pain I felt reading through words from your soul? I feel my chest tighten and my throat constrict and my heart hurts for you. I remember your dad. I wish I had the opportunity to know him just a little bit. I am sure he would have been like a favorite uncle to me. He does have a happy voice :) and a warm smiling countenance that must radiate a fraction of the brilliance of his spirit. I know he is still here on this earth just beyond the veil. Waiting with Joseph, Saimasina, and our grandmas the ones we were closest to and others. I know he is happy... they are happy, and if anything, they worry for us and want us to choose and make right choices so we can be reunited as a celestial eternal family unit. I love you Rita. I know we laugh and joke and joke and laugh and its not always easy to express feelings from our hearts, and even though you know :) I want to say... I love you.