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. )
I have a bit of an idea how you feel.
ReplyDeleteI 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.
ReplyDeleteI 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.
ReplyDeleteI went to the cemetery myself today to see dad, lost him two years ago and I know exactly how you feel. . . .
ReplyDeletethank you, breda...
ReplyDeleteyou 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!
ReplyDeleteThank you Breda. For me, and my father.
ReplyDeleteMy 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.
ReplyDeleteThat's sweet, and good for you.
ReplyDeleteI 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.
ReplyDeleteLovely 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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