For decades I thought the fact that it still hurt so much after all these years meant that there must be something wrong with me.
Then, not too long ago, I had a therapist say to me that thought was wrong. I was entitled to my pain. Especially from a burn that took place at age 8. It left its mark, and there was nothing wrong with trying to make it less awful.
You don't get over some things.
But you can get past them.
So it still hurts as it haunts.
I still fucking miss my Dad. And it's because I still love him deeply even though he's been gone this long. Sometimes it feels like he passed away a thousand years ago, and it often feels like yesterday.
One of my greatest regrets is not saying goodbye to him as Mom begged me to the day he aspirated. The day my Mom said through tears, "He's dying..", as she fiercely pecked 9-1-1 onto the phone's keypad.
I couldn't say goodbye. It was too final. It would mean he wasn't coming back.
What I should have said was "I love you", before that ambulance vanished down Lichter road into eternity.
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