Daddy Don't Go
I missed him. We all missed him; Talia, Miranda, Mikey, Mum, Gran. Everyone. There was nothing we could do but sit around and dream about the future. Erase him from the future.
Erase the image of him walking me down the aisle with Johnny. Erase the image of me visiting him daily when he grew old. Erase the image of him caressing my children in such a tender embrace. The memories, or the plans, they were all gone. Nothing was left for me to feel.
We sat around the turkey. Gran lit the candles, every single one of them. I took the same one I take every year; a small, silver one with red decoration. Mum passed the other candles around. One each for Talia, Miranda and even little Mikey. She left the largest candle in the place we had set for dad.
No one spoke throughout the whole meal. When we had all finished, we all marched into the sitting room to watch Christmas specials of just about every TV show ever made.
Still no one said anything; even Mikey managed to stay silent in respect.
The time came when there was a segment of a TV show dedicated to people that had died in the army. Mum ran out the room crying, closely followed by Tlia and Miranda, and then by Mikey, who only cried in misunderstanding. I stayed strong and sat with Gran all through it, but I could feel wet on Gran's cheeks when I reached out to touch her face. I realise that we are not the only ones who lost him.
There was no way we could ever forget him.
We could try and try to start afresh, but there were so many things in life; so many little things; that remind us of dad.
Like pancakes with peanut butter and strawberries. Our favourite breakfast; we have it often. But recently, no one makes it, because Dad used to make it, and we don't want to take his place.
Christmas is going badly; Mum and the girls are upstairs crying, Mikey has been out to bed because he got so stressed, he got a temperature, and even Gran has broken down. I am the only one that was strong enough to open the door for Aunt Christie, Uncle David, and their daughters, Michelle and Serena, when they came knocking.
I wonder why God decided to kill Dad. He could kill the other man; he porbably did; but why Dad?
No one spoke throughout the whole meal. When we had all finished, we all marched into the sitting room to watch Christmas specials of just about every TV show ever made.
Still no one said anything; even Mikey managed to stay silent in respect.
The time came when there was a segment of a TV show dedicated to people that had died in the army. Mum ran out the room crying, closely followed by Tlia and Miranda, and then by Mikey, who only cried in misunderstanding. I stayed strong and sat with Gran all through it, but I could feel wet on Gran's cheeks when I reached out to touch her face. I realise that we are not the only ones who lost him.
There was no way we could ever forget him.
We could try and try to start afresh, but there were so many things in life; so many little things; that remind us of dad.
Like pancakes with peanut butter and strawberries. Our favourite breakfast; we have it often. But recently, no one makes it, because Dad used to make it, and we don't want to take his place.
Christmas is going badly; Mum and the girls are upstairs crying, Mikey has been out to bed because he got so stressed, he got a temperature, and even Gran has broken down. I am the only one that was strong enough to open the door for Aunt Christie, Uncle David, and their daughters, Michelle and Serena, when they came knocking.
I wonder why God decided to kill Dad. He could kill the other man; he porbably did; but why Dad?
0 Comments
No comments yet!