I hold on through memories.
The ones I'm sometimes afraid of.
The way he looked, the time he shaved his beard and I couldn't stop laughing.
The way he reminded me every year on my birthday that it meant he was getting old.
The way he patiently waited for me every night after dance...and sacrificed things he wanted to pay for it.
The way he took us fishing.
And how proud he was of us.
That last morning...
She holds on through tangible things.
Pictures of him.
Things he bought or that she bought using "his" money.
And grieves when those things are lost.
She said there's pain and strength in my eyes.
And sweetness in hers.
5 comments:
How many years has it been since your father passed?
Praying for you both, this is a really lovely piece you wrote. Love you!
Sally, it's been almost 11 years...11 years in January.
Hard to believe it's been that long.
I remember almost wetting my pants when I walked up to Sandra's back door and he was sitting in her kitchen getting a perm.
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