I lost my father two and a half weeks ago. I am 27 years old and my father was 63. It isn't supposed to be like this. He is supposed to watch my children grow, graduate, marry. I miss him more than I can say. I spent so many stupid days here in my own life. So many days I wish I would have spent with him. He had been sick for about a year or so. We had just taken him to the psychiatric clinic at the hospital a month before. They diagnosed him with Major Depressive Disorder. They changed his antidepressant, and he was starting to feel better. And I have so many issues with guilt. I knew he was sick. I knew something had to be wrong. He even told me and my sister that he was dying. What kind of daughter am I? I have 2 brothers and 3 sisters, the man who loved us more than anyone ever will is gone. And I could have done something. My mom was, in my sister's words, "his Queen". They were married for almost 42 years. I did love him. I just never thought it would happen to us. Sometimes I feel like it hasn't happened to us. And I pray that I can wake up from this nightmare. I had been there, at his apartment, that day. Right before. I think he had gotten up to watch me leave. I love you, Dad, for always trying to protect us. YOU DID A GOOD JOB!!!! And I'll see you in heaven. xoxo. I wrote this the night he died. This poem is dedicated to my father, Myron B. Akers... Arms Wrapped Around Me An average day. That's when the call came. My dad's gone, you say. My life never the same. I can't breath or think or stand. If only he'd come here, hold me by the hand. As long as I'm living he'll stay in my heart. Sitting here with his picture, the memories start. He'd brag about us, if you'd listen to him. Eyes with a sparkle, a big, happy grin. Daddy's little girl. Always his baby. I knew he meant "yes", when he told me "maybe". I pray that he knows all the good he has done. All the values instilled, each and every one. He taught me so much, I could never say all. He showed me how to pick myself up when I fall. So that's what I'm trying to do-make him proud. But he'll understand if I cry out too loud. His hand on my head, "in Jesus' name". Was there for us all when the bad times came. So now I wail and sob and cry. With Arms Wrapped Around Me, attempting good-bye. When I heard the news I had to get His shirt from my closet. A perfect fit. It smells of his aftershave and feels soft and warm. Like a hug from my dad-protected from harm. Ink stain on the pocket, tattered sleeve. If I don't take it off, then he'll never leave. I love you, dear daddy, I hope you can see. And stay here forever-Arms Wrapped Around Me. ...in our hearts forever. Original poem by: Melody L. Wasson June 29, 2001

I Miss My Dad

I lost my father two and a half weeks ago. I am 27 years old and my father was 63. It isn't supposed to be like this. He is supposed to watch my children grow, graduate, marry. I miss him more than I can say. I spent so many stupid days here in my own life. So many days I wish I would have spent with him. He had been sick for about a year or so. We had just taken him to the psychiatric clinic at the hospital a month before. They diagnosed him with Major Depressive Disorder. They changed his antidepressant, and he was starting to feel better. And I have so many issues with guilt. I knew he was sick. I knew something had to be wrong. He even told me and my sister that he was dying. What kind of daughter am I? I have 2 brothers and 3 sisters, the man who loved us more than anyone ever will is gone. And I could have done something. My mom was, in my sister's words, "his Queen". They were married for almost 42 years. I did love him. I just never thought it would happen to us. Sometimes I feel like it hasn't happened to us. And I pray that I can wake up from this nightmare. I had been there, at his apartment, that day. Right before. I think he had gotten up to watch me leave. I love you, Dad, for always trying to protect us. YOU DID A GOOD JOB!!!! And I'll see you in heaven. xoxo. I wrote this the night he died. This poem is dedicated to my father,
Myron B. Akers...
Arms Wrapped Around Me

An average day. That's when the call came.
My dad's gone, you say. My life never the same.
I can't breath or think or stand.
If only he'd come here, hold me by the hand.
As long as I'm living he'll stay in my heart.
Sitting here with his picture, the memories start.
He'd brag about us, if you'd listen to him.
Eyes with a sparkle, a big, happy grin.
Daddy's little girl. Always his baby.
I knew he meant "yes", when he told me "maybe".
I pray that he knows all the good he has done.
All the values instilled, each and every one.
He taught me so much, I could never say all.
He showed me how to pick myself up when I fall.
So that's what I'm trying to do-make him proud.
But he'll understand if I cry out too loud.
His hand on my head, "in Jesus' name".
Was there for us all when the bad times came.
So now I wail and sob and cry.
With Arms Wrapped Around Me, attempting good-bye.
When I heard the news I had to get
His shirt from my closet. A perfect fit.
It smells of his aftershave and feels soft and warm.
Like a hug from my dad-protected from harm.
Ink stain on the pocket, tattered sleeve.
If I don't take it off, then he'll never leave.
I love you, dear daddy, I hope you can see.
And stay here forever-Arms Wrapped Around Me.

...in our hearts forever.
Original poem by: Melody L. Wasson
June 29, 2001

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