The silliest things

I had started wiritng a post tonight about my relationship with my dad and the last time I saw him before he died.  I had actually written about four paragraphs when I realised something.  I think I am not quite ready to pour out something that means so much to me.  I enjoy writing here about my deepest thoughts and feelings.  I like the fact that anyone could read them.  I am using this blog partly as therapy. 

What I realised tonight is that even though my dad died in 1996 I am still not quite ready to talk about it.  The wounds I have surrounding this event are still hugely raw, open and exposed.  I have been spending some time lately with his sisters, this is for a couple of reasons:

1) they are spectacularly interesting women.

2) They each have fascinating stories to tell.

3) They all have their own special connection to my dad and I want to be in their company to glean any little bit of information they can give me about him.

4) The most important reason though is that I can see a little of him in each of them – his warmth, his wisdom, the same characterisitics and mannerisms.  The family likeness is remarkable and I feel as if I am learning about him every time I speak to them. 

It has become a routine that after I visit them I become a little withdrawn because I am processing the information they have given me but I am also trying to commit to memory all the little bits of him that seem to fade with each passing day.  The feelings of loss have not got any better but I manage to push them to the back of my mind better.  My dad made me feel like I could achieve anything.  When low self-esteem drags me down it is the words of my dad that pick me up again.  I have an internal fear of getting hurt, letting people get too close or just letting myself relax but when I think about my dad it makes me feel strong, intelligent and worthwhile.  

The blog I had intended writng has not materialised but I know one day I will get it down on paper.  I will let go of the regrets and guilt that I did not make those last minutes, seconds with him count more – by saying something profound and meaningful.  I think and hope that he knew how much he meant to me.

Miss you dad.x

W

 

 

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