I was 19 when my father died, and for a long while after I would visit the cemetery, sit in the grass next to where he was buried and say "Hi, Daddy," as I patted his headstone. Maybe I visited more often than was healthy for me but I felt lost, and I just didn't know what else to do. I'd bring him flowers cut from his own garden and tell him how I was doing in my college classes and about all of my silly part-time coffeehouse jobs. I'd try to remember him in happier times - laughing and smiling and strong, instead of slowly wasting away from cancer - but these visits often ended with tears and the question, "Oh, I miss you. I need you. Where did you go?"It was a beautiful day today so Mike and I took a drive. The sky was blue, the world was green and growing and I had the windows down. We drove past the crowded cemetery and I waved. "Hi, Daddy. Happy father's day!"
But we didn't need to stop. I know where he is now.
I carry him in my heart.
(A happy day to all of the fathers on my blogroll and to the fathers who read my blog. )
But we didn't need to stop. I know where he is now.
I carry him in my heart.
_____________________
(A happy day to all of the fathers on my blogroll and to the fathers who read my blog. )
11 comments:
I have a bit of an idea how you feel.
I dropped by my dad's grave yesterday at the military cemetery; I lost him in late 2005. I'm just glad I had as many years as I did with him around.
AAwww. I love you so much. I'm glad you had a good day. I love my sister.
I lost my dad in Feb. 2007. One day after he and my mom celebrated their 56th Anniversary, he had a heart attack and died almost instantly. I miss him every day and I think of him every day as well. He was 76 years old when he died, I will always think of him being 55 or so for some reason. He was one of the most honest people and he could teach courses on integrity. I have a lot to live up to with the example he set and I'm sure I don't measure up. The best compliment I can get is for someone to say that I remind them of Harlan. For you dad, I will always try to make you proud of me. I love you and I miss you. Thanks Breda for your blog, I enjoy it immensely.
I went to the cemetery myself today to see dad, lost him two years ago and I know exactly how you feel. . . .
thank you, breda...
you are right; your dad is in your heart and he never left you...just look at what a great job he did with you...
jtc
I'm fortunate to still have my dad with me. He'll be 93 in a couple weeks and is still mentally sharp. I just wish he'd keep his hearing aids in!
Thank you Breda. For me, and my father.
My wife treated me to dinner, and my son called and wished me a Happy Father's Day, but it was the boy at church, who I have never seen with a father, showing me is treasured best lock blade knife that made me remember how important fathers really are - and how they only get so much time to make it a better world - mine did before he passed over, but I still talk to him about how I should do it. Thanks for the good wishes, Breda.
That's sweet, and good for you.
I try to keep Dad alive by telling stories about him on the blog, so people who never knew him can know him. It's a small thing, but it helps me. Dad died over 21 years ago. I still miss him every day.
Lovely post, Breda. I'm sorry you lost your pop so young, but I'm glad you found he is always with you. I have observed that most of the strongest women I know were given a strong sense of self by their fathers. Yours must have been particularly fine. Bless him and bless you.
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