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.