"Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes." ~Gloria Naylor
The wider the gap stretches from the day I last saw my daddy and felt his warm skin, the heavier the pain sits in my heart. Losing a parent is hard stuff. Stuff no one can prepare you for. It’s similar to child birth, you know it's going to hurt but you never know how sharp the pain is going to be or where it will hit you.
Today marks three weeks since my father passed away, and since that time I’ve noticed that the only people who understand and keep checking in on me are the ones who have already lost a parent. For others life goes one. After they left the memorial service, hung up their suits, they went on living their normal lives. Me, on the other hand, I’m left here with a gaping hole in my life with the wind whipping in cold and hard. There are the every day reminders that make my heart ache. The phone calls we can't make anymore. A 6-year-old who wonders if God can bring his Papi back. Sometimes I just want to hear my father’s easy laughter. Ask him a question on how to fix something.
Now that my daddy is gone, life feels lopsided as if I'm driving with one flat tire or walking around without an arm. There's a dull ache that I'm constantly aware of in the background of my life—an ache that most people look past. I know it's one-day-at-a-time process but that doesn't replace the fact that I simply want to talk to my daddy and fill him in on the little details of life.
If your daddy or mom is still here. Be sure to call them everyday and love on them as much as you can…because when they are gone that’s all you’ll want to do.
