Missing my dad…is something that happens out of the blue. No particular reason, he was just my comfort. To think that this year is going to be 12 years…since he passed…it seems like it was yesterday…
As a child you are thought not to question nor challenged the decisions that come from above. I never question, well, not purposely. But I do…struggled to understand…why he was taken from me…he was only 57…and he was my ALL.
Thinking about that, is thinking that 17 years from now, I could be taken from my kids…even sooner… and I know that would be devastating for them. I wonder what my daddy was thinking when he took his last breath? I wonder what was going through his mind, the day I hugged him tight and told him goodbye. That day, that miserable day…I pretended to be strong (like I always do), I hugged him tight (well, as tight as I could without hurting him-he was so fragile), I kissed him, I caressed his cheeks, I look at his face (his eyes were closed-he knew that was our final goodbye). We both pretended to be strong that day, but at the touch of or skins, we felt the love, the “I will miss you forever”, the “Why”, the anger of knowing that there was no tomorrow for us.
I miss my father…I feel like a part of me died the day he died. I chose to believe that there will be a day when I will meet with him in Heaven. I had dreams, where I can see myself running to his arms, embracing in a hug –no tears, just laughter and a “finally” we’ll together again. My daddy loved me, I was his little girl, his pride and joy, and he loved my stubbornness…and although be bumped heads a LOT…we managed to talk it out. I talk to him in my thoughts…I never get an answer from him…I just miss him…I cannot wait till I see him again….by