sundog

July 21, 2006

Daddy’s Death Day

Filed under: Family, My Life, Self Pity — happychick @ 6.38p07

Today is July 21. It is also 6 years to the day since my Dad died. To talk about it again would not only be a waste of time, I would also lose valuable bodily fluids and the like.

The last time we went on holiday, Mum and I visited his grave/plaque/ I’mnot sure how to describe it, because he was cremated. It was quite a sad affair, as one would expected from a visit to their parents’ grave. I cried quite a bit more than anticipated, but then again, you can never anticipate how a visit to the graveyard will affect you, can you?

Each time I visit his little plaque, I leave something behind. Most of the time it’s a little toy, or something I find floating around my room. The first was a mini stuffed zebra. Each time I have been there since, I have placed another trinket, like a TAZO’s collecters coin, or a plastic cow with her calf. And each time, the zebra is there, a little more brown, a little more mouldy, a little more decrepid. But there, to give me reassurance, that someone, at least, is watching over my Daddy. Last time we went, though, the zebra was gone. So were a few of the other things. Perhaps they re-mulched the garden. Perhaps it was blown away by strong winds. Despite the fact that it was probablyan accident, I felt terribly violated. I felt a new, stinging sensation of loss.

You may remember, not so long ago, that I told you his Death Day was on Pete’s Birthday, the 20th of June. I was wrong. How wrong is that? Forgetting your own Fathers’ Death Date? New level of selfi-obsessed, negligent carelessness over here, people.

When I was younger I went to a therapist. We had many a session, which usually included me crying into her pillow, eating her chocolates, and whinging about pathetic little things that have affected me. For $100 a session, I hardly thought it was worth it. But in our last session, she got me to write a letter to my Daddy. Now, many people have said to do the same often enough in the years that followed, and I have, many times. But this first letter, written under the all-seeing eye of the therapist, is the one I will remember. I still have it, tucked away in my drawer, as a reminder of all the pain and hardships I have overcome, and a motivation, proving that I am capable of anything.

I guess, if I could say anything to my Daddy just one last time, it would be that i’m sorry, about all the things I have done to disgrace you, and all the things I am bound to do in life, to add to that list. And finally, that I forgive you. And this is especially true and important, as I forgive very few these days. Very few.

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1 Comment »

  1. Oh my child, what a beautiful post. I cannot imagine what it would be to lose my dad as a child. I was 57 when I lost him and it was the single most devistating event of my life. I know your dad is proud of you for the young lady you are, and the woman you are becoming.

    Comment by Sandra — July 21, 2006 @ 6.38p07


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