They say time heals all wounds. I'm inclined to slightly disagree. 13 years ago, my Father was murdered. He was snatched away from his kids right when he was finally getting it together. I still get angry when I think about all the memories we will never have with him. I never got to tell him goodbye. Yes, he had his faults but I loved him still. I am not attempting to turn him into a martyr since he is gone. He was a man, flawed but real.
Every year, this day is full of mixed emotion. Some years I am fine. Other years I cannot deal. This year was a mix of both. I wish I could just hear his voice one last time. Hear him say my name the way only he could. I miss his laugh, miss him clowning around. I get sad thinking that my future kids and my nieces and nephews will never get to know their Grandpa. I am sure he would have a field day with them. I even miss arguing with him. I'm angry that I will never get the chance to become a better daughter to him and him a better father to me. This is just wishful thinking on my part. Some days, I just miss my Dad. September 23rd is always one of those days.
R.I.P. Kenneth Jerome "Kool Ken" Hawkins Sr. We will always love and miss you!
I just want to acknowledge that I've read this. Thank you for sharing. Also, like you say, the wound of the bereaved is a type for which that statement does not apply.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Some days are easier than others. Some days I just miss my Father.
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