Yesterday would have been my father’s 86 birthday if he was still with us. He passed away on July 3rd, 2002. Hard to believe it’s been 18 years.
Life instantly changed for me at that moment and I don’t really know if I can describe how. It was a feeling that struck me to my core. One half of what made you was gone.
I went to visit my fathers grave when I was in North Carolina a few weeks back. The conversation I had this time was different from the ones back when he first past away. Those in the beginning were hurt and anger and the feeling of unfinished business.
The conversation this time was one of I am sorry I didn’t take to heart what you tried to tell me years ago and that now being older I see what you were trying to tell me.
Before my father died I finally heard him say what I suspected but he never expressed verbally. He said I love you. Then he stunned me. He told me of all my children I am proud of you the most. Hearing that from my father at the age of 32 meant more to me than anything material. My father wasn’t good at expressing feelings and the older I got I accepted it was how he was raised and he did the best he could. Plus my father suffered from manic depression and my teenage years were rough doing everything I could to not let on in school my father was at several times in a mental facility.
This last visit I expressed frustration with myself and asked the ground “ I wonder would you still be proud of me today.”
The burial plot offered no response.