Does It End?

It will be nine months on Sept. 20th.  Dad will have been gone for 9 months.  I haven’t been able to really come to terms with that yet.  I still listen for his car, in the mornings.  I still want to order him that WWII DVD set, advertised on television. I still, instinctively, expect to see him when I go over to the house, to visit Mom.

Thanksgiving is coming up, Canadian Thanksgiving.  It’s on October 10th, this year.  It will be odd.  It will be so sad not to have him here.  Not being able to ask his opinion on my figgy duff.  Not trying to hide the wine so he doesn’t drink too much of it.  Not hearing his laugh…

He left a big hole in my heart.  It is probably healing around the edges because the grief is not as raw – still raw but not “as”.  I still cry when I think of him…like now.  I still miss him, terribly, like now.

It is just like that cliché, one day at a time.  Some days will and are worse than others.  It manifests itself in bizarre way – I have very little patience for stupid people. No patience for people who take joy from hurting others, who seem selfish and self-absorbed.  People who don’t see the importance of family and those connections.  I find myself simply wiping them from my consciousness.  They don’t exist to me.  They are of no importance.  Honouring my dad by being as moral and ethical as I can be, is my way of handling the grief.  I don’t beat on those who fall short of what we consider to be acceptable behaviours – I simply don’t bother with them.

I’ve lost my father.  He’s gone.  But I will never allow his memory to be tarnished because I didn’t step up to the plate.  He taught me right from wrong and it is my way of keeping him close, to do what is right.  Life is too damn short to be spent regretting actions.  Life is too short to waste time on those who choose to be asshats.

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