They say the first year is the hardest. I disagree. That would imply that things get better. Doesn’t happen. Sorry to burst your euphemistic little bubble. It never gets easier. I suppose that I might have a twisted view. You see, I can’t grieve. Don’t tell me just to let it go. Don’t tell me he went home. Don’t tell me he’s in a better place. That means nothing. He may be in a better place, but he’s not here with me. Where a father belongs. And to see your mother remarry in a mere six months, it doesn’t convey the idea that you’re all in this together. When even your own brother and sisters don’t even talk about him, it makes you think that they’ve forgotten, too. Well, I haven’t. I haven’t forgotten the most influential adult in my life. I haven’t forgotten how it felt. That instant of soul rending agony, as I watched and felt him give on last sigh. I felt him grow cold and rigid in my grip. Then, blackness, emptiness. Devoid of feeling, emotion. Now, I don’t have the compass I once had. I have nothing to measure myself against. It’s like driving down a dark back road without any headlights. How am I supposed to know how to act? How to be? I didn’t have enough time. All I wanted, was to reach the point where he’s no longer just a father, just a disciplinarian. But also a friend. I wanted Dad to be my friend. So bad. I was a stupid kid. I was rebellious, hateful, spiteful. I never gave him the chance. Now, I see my folly. I know that I wanted him to be my friend. I think he wanted that, too. It’s too late now. Regret tears me apart. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how I pushed him away, until it was too late. Until the cancer had ravaged and destroyed his very faculty of thought. Only then did I realize what he was. And how he loved me. I know that he loved me very much. And underneath all of my filth, all of my dirt and hate and envy and spite and rebellion, I loved him. And still do. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone. That I’ll never hear his laugh or voice again. I just wanted to know that he was proud of me.

Dad, I was am proud of you, I am so proud that I had you as a father. I just want to be like you when I grow up. Dad, are you proud of me?
Currently feeling: sore
Posted by Narzack on September 7, 2003 at 12:27 AM as a favorite post | 12 Dropkicked

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Comment posted on December 21st, 2010 at 06:44 PM
I miss him too and I want a real adult male friend. My father as a friend. I see my friends have fun with their dads all the time, and it makes me really happy for them. I wish I had something like that in my life. Steps don't do the trick, In-Laws don't do the trick.

Anonymous (guest)

Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 11:02 AM
Kyle, yes people want to hear! You have friends on line and off line who would listen. You are loved and people care about you and your wellbeing.
Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 12:53 PM
Who is this anonymous encourager?
Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 08:56 PM
Its not me. I'm the Tarheel. Must be someone else who cares about you also. There are a lot of people out there who are "merely sky watching"...

Anonymous (guest)

Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 01:03 PM
just someone who cares!!! :)

Anonymous (guest)

Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 10:01 AM
Kyle, I am very sorry about your dad. There are things though that would help you to be able to "grieve". You should focus on your good times with your dad and not the regrets. Regrets will never let you get past them. Just because your brother and sisters and mom don't talk about him in thier everyday conversation, doesn't mean that they don't think about him. They do talk about him and the funny things he did and the fun times they had. Especially your mom. Don't be afraid to talk about him. Your mom and dad talked about the important things and took care of the "regret" issues in thier lives. That has helped your mom be able to marry the man, in nine months, that your dad chose for her. Your dad loved you and your sisters and brother and mother veyr much and was very proud. Kyle he was very proud of you. Just ask any of his friends, he boasted about you often.
Kyle, talk to people about your dad, even if they didn't know him...
Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 08:53 PM
The Tarheel will also vouch for that last statement: Your mother married a man who was chosen by your father. That's pretty cool.
Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 10:09 AM
I want to talk to people about him. But do they want to hear? T
Comment posted on September 7th, 2003 at 08:08 PM
There was this time that we were at your house and you did somethin' to my Mage book, and I was like, "Geez, Kyle, that's the most precious book that I own." Your dad looks at me, and says, "Most precious book I own is the Bible."

I paused, and I was like, "Well, besides the Bible, I mean."

He gives me this wierd kind of smile, and tells me that I meant what I said the -first- time. And that really kinda made me think. It's one of those things you don't forget, that reminds you of priorities. Your dad was an awesome man, Kyle. I won't forget him either.
Comment posted on September 8th, 2003 at 01:10 PM
Aye, I remember that day.
Comment posted on September 7th, 2003 at 09:44 PM
Yep. I can hear him saying something like that.

He was always so direct and to the point. Blunt, brutal honesty. A rare thing to find in a man these days.
Comment posted on September 7th, 2003 at 07:32 PM
I miss him, too. I think of him every time I work with drywall, every time I see your sisters, and every time I see you. In my son's bedroom there is one spot where the drywall has a notch in it. Your father put that notch there and told me to repair it later. I will never repair it. It helps me remember him.