I Miss My Dad
I have a lot of good memories of my time with you, but they're all from so long ago. When we were kids, you were so open with us. You were totally devoted to our happiness and well being. You loved us immensely and it showed. The long hours we spent in the car as you picked us up and drove us to Mam-maw and Pap-paw's for weekends provided some of my happiest and saddest times with you. The happiest were in the time leading up to when we got to see you and be with you and all through the weekend or holiday. The saddest were when you drove us back
home and left us there until the following month.
I never told you how sad I felt on those Sunday afternoons as we drove back. I felt a heavy weight on my heart, partly because I didn't like what I was going back to and partly because I knew we wouldn't see you for another month. I also never told you about the severe depression I felt in that first summer after we were living so far from you. Nothing seemed important at the time. I tried to cheer myself up, but it didn't work. In the core of my being was a feeling of complete emptiness. I never told anyone about it, Dad. It was horrible, but I didn't know what to do about it. I didn't think anyone could help me.
Now you're gone, and I can't help but recall that time. That's when I felt closest to you, when I knew you were really there for us as much as you could be. Those conflicting emotions of happiness and sadness have been knotted up inside me all these years. Now your death brings it all to the surface again. I feel the depression. I feel sad that we grew apart as I became an adolescent and when you got remarried and focused on your new family. I wish that the communication between us hadn't stopped twenty five years ago. I tried, Dad. I tried. You kept all those letters I wrote to you, so I know that I tried. Why did you stay aloof? I know you loved me, but your silence really hurt. I'm writing this to you, and I wish you could answer me.
You kept your silence all the way to the end. Diagnosed with cancer, you put a positive spin on it and led us to believe you were doing much better than you were. I would have come to see you had you even hinted that you might not be around much longer. That's what really hurts right now, Dad. I wish I had had a chance to see you one more time, to talk to you about all the things we haven't talked about in the last
25 years. To say, "I love you" and hear you say it to me too. Goodbye, Dad. I love you. I miss you so much.
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