Sunday, December 21, 2014

Sunday Confessions: Father

My father died in 2001. 

Today would have been his 58th birthday. 

I wish I could say it gets easier, but it doesn't. 

Every milestone, every tragedy, every celebration, every new lesson learned... I wish he was here.  

I wish he was here to play with my nephew, and support my sister while she prepares to bring my nieces into the world. 

I wish he was here to see the man my brother has become. 

Sometimes, I wish he was here because he died before I feel like I really got to know him.  A child only knows their parent as that... a parent.  You don't see them as a person until you become your own person.  I often wonder who he was.  

I wonder what he would think of me.  I wonder if he would be proud of me.  

Sometimes, I wonder what I might be like if it weren't for his death.  

Then I realize that while I sometimes long for his presence, at the time time... much of who and what I am was directly impacted by his death.  And as terrible as it is, I'm grateful for it because I love who I am.