It’s father’s day, and oh how I hate it! Every time I read an email subject on a list that says “happy father’s day” I want to yell and throw things. I hate Father’s Day!
My dad died in 1997 at the ripe young age of fifty-seven. So, yeah, it’s been closer to twenty years than ten, and I still miss him so. Granted, some years are better than tohers. some years, I manage to pass through this day without wanting to have tantrums or breaking down and feeling emotional and out of sorts.
Other years, like this year, I feel angry and cheated, emotional and out of sorts. Other than necessary laundry and taking care of the dogs, I’ve done little today, and I plan to keep it that way. I want to curl up in my hole and bury my head in the proverbial sand and forget that thousands and millions of people in the world can go hug their dads todaya nd tell them how much they love them. What wouldn’t I give to be able to do that, to hug my dad, to sit on his lap, to tell him I love him, to hear him say he loves me.
In just a few months, I’ll be as old as my dad was when he died. that’s a frigging weird feeling, you know. Fifty-seven didn’t seem old when Dad died,a nd I railed against the fate that would take such a young man. Now that I’m nearly that age, it feels both young and old. I feel sometimes still like the young girl I was. Other times, I feel ancient and tired. The nature of life means that normally we do outlive our parents, but it’s not frigging fair when they die well before they should.
damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!!! Let me just have my tantrum and be emotional and out of sorts today. And don’t let the world tell ya that you’ve grieved long enough or it’s time to be over it. You never really do get over losing someone you love, not really, not ever. You learn to hide it. You learn to pretend and put on a face to the world, the face the world expects. But sometimes, inside, you’re still that scared little girl who wants daddy to come along and fix everything and keep you safe, and fight your dragons. Or just hold you on his lap with his arms tight around you.
R.I.P. Jerry Peter gomes, 1939-1997
I love you and miss you, forever.