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Wednesday, 12 August 2015

Sixteen years ago my Father passed away. He left on a journey, and as much as I know the travelling is destined for all of us, the pain of his leaving still leaves me breathless.

Today was his birthday, and so I miss him even more, even though I know he is as close as the next room, waiting by that door to welcome me when I too walk through.

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.

So tonight we will gather around a table and drink sweet wine and guzzle delightful, sinful delights and he will be closer with every bite, every remembered memory shared.

Happy birthday, Papá

MC

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