Please yell back at me…

Have you ever tried to be angry at someone who can’t yell back at you?  Someone who doesnn’t exist in this world anymore; someone you can’t look in the eye and ask, “Why did you make those decisions.”  I admit I am angry at my dad, not for dying, but for making my step mom his power of attorney.  She only knew him 15 years and I knew him my whole life.  Didn’t he realize that I would be the one that fought the hardest; the person who tried to be his true voice?  My dad and I always talked about his passing even though I never wanted to he insisted because he wanted me to know what his wishes were.  It’s remembering how close we were, how much we shared in private conversation, that makes it so damn hard to accept that for some reason he changed his mind four days before his surgery.  I cannot nor will I ever get the answers I want and that in itself is disheartning.  I want my dad to yell back at me, tell me to shape up and fly right but he can’t and no one else can ever take his place on the pulpit. 

As days go on a virtual stopwatch seems to be counting down the seconds until another moment passes without my father creating a distance so great between us that eventually I won’t be able to see past it.  I wish I could stop thinking about it or maybe I don’t.  I am afraid that if I don’t think about him or remember what they did to him – I will forget both.  Sometimes I hold on to that tiny bit of hope inside myself with every ounce of strength I have left in the hopes that one day I’ll be able to climb back out of the darkness.  There are brief moments that I see sunshine like when my children smile at me or I see them skipping across the lawn without a care in the world.  I can’t remember what it feels like to be carefree but I suppose that is what being a grown up  is all about.

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