Words of a Poet

I miss my dad. I don’t know why all these feelings are coming to me right now. I’ve been blogging about Father’s Day sales for weeks now, and it’s barely just hitting me that he will be gone another Father’s Day.

I don’t go visit him anymore, I don’t know why. When he first died I would drive out to the cemetery in the middle of the night just to be close. Close to him, his memory… I don’t know. Now I don’t even bother and I don’t know why. Why did I fight to keep his ashes near me and not visit him? Just so I’d be able to?

I think that’s why I dream about him so much. I remember him so clearly and I know I always will. Just everything about him. But I repress that, the memories sometimes, and it just comes out in dreams. Maybe to get back at me for not visiting him. Torturing me with thoughts of him still being alive.

Sometimes I see people that look like him and just feel the urge to talk to them. To see if they sound like him, or act like he does. It sounds stupid and childish. Maybe they have a piece of him. Sometimes they don’t even look like him, and I’m kidding myself.

I don’t even talk to my brothers/sisters from my dads side. I feel bad, but I never really connected with them, it was all kind of forced, or rather my dad was the glue. Edward was mean to me up until maybe 1-2 visits before he died. And when he died he acted like a child. Why did I have to be more mature?

I got more time with him than anyone, but I never took that for granted for one second. Did they ever think that maybe for that reason, it was harder on me than them? Unfortunately, they were without him for a while, I never was. I guess thats my resentment.

All these feelings never dealt with are now coming out in the weirdest ways. Like this post.