Wednesday, 12 August 2015

Ten years ago my Father left on a journey.

He left, and as much as I know the travelling is destined to all, the pain of his leaving still leaves me breathless.

I know he is as close as the next room, waiting by that door to welcome me when I too walk through, yet I miss him more and more.

I miss not sharing my life with him - my daughter's growing up, the things I have done, my hopes for the future.

I miss him in the most selfish ways: his understanding, his acceptance, his encouragement, his love with no strings attached - no demands of redress.

I guess I miss him for knowing who and what I am - we were very alike in a lot of ways, so (one more selfish reason) I miss being understood.

Mostly I miss his smile and his love for life; I miss him looking at me over the top of his spectacles as he recited a recipe like it was a love-poem. I miss my father, and my best-friend.

The truth is my grief is truly selfish: it is for me, for all I lost, for my loneliness at his absence.
For HIM I will NOT grieve, his was a life well lived, and that life I celebrate.


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