Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Once more. Only once.

Yesterday was my father's birthday. I've stopped going to his grave, a few years back, on his birthday.  I haven't been there actually for a few years now.  I think the last time was when we buried my mother's partner.  I guess it pissed me off more than I thought that my mother chose to bury her last beau next to my dad...  Weird, I'm thinking of this now.  I wasn't too happy with the idea and had let her know, but she didn't see a problem or anything strange with it.  Picture this, on one side of the stone are written my maternal grand-parents names, as well as one of my uncle.  On the other side was my father's name, my mother (without the exit date, of course) and maybe now her last beau.  I'm writing maybe because I don't know if she had his name added to the stone.  And yet, I'm the weird one who sees (or creates) issues for no reason... yeah ok!

Yesterday my father would have been 71 years old.  I'm realizing he wasn't that old.  He did die young. 

Yesterday, I looked for a picture of my dad and found a nice one of him, the way I remembered him.

I've looked at it in details, as if I was trying to re-print his face in my memory.  Looking at that picture I couldn't help but feel I was forgetting my father.  Maybe it is because on Sunday we've watched a bunched of episodes from "Charmed" (wanted to watch that series again) and in one of the last one we've seen, the girls had gone back in time and visited their mother.  At times I wish I could do that.  I wouldn't change things necessarily, I would just want to see and hear my father's voice again.  I think I remember his voice, and yet... I'm not sure.

He's been gone for thirteen years already.  At times it feels like it was only a few months ago and other times it seems like it was ages ago. I wish I would have a note or something he'd written me, something I could see and touched, knowing it had touched him as well.  I don't have much of him.  He didn't write, he would signed his name in all the cards I've ever gotten from my parents, but I'd like to have more than his first name in a birthday card.  When I hear of someone who committed suicide and left a note, I sort of envy these people.  The time he did commit suicide he didn't call me, unlike his previous attempt.  He had tried calling me.  When he did take his life he didn't.  I guess he was pressed for time and didn't want to chance it with me trying to dissuade him... I still see him the last time I was at their place, as we were leaving I held his face between my hands told him he didn't have to do it and that I loved him.  I still see the sadness in his eyes.  I don't think I will ever forget that sadness, that look he had.  Even at the morgue, on the gurney, he looked so sad.  I felt sorry for him, for his sadness, sorry for his pain, sorry that I couldn't do anything more to help.  Strange that I'm thinking of this now...

If I had one magical power, I think it would be to go back and time and visit those who have left me...  I would have quite a few people to visit...  I would love to hear their voices again, hear them laugh and see them one more time... What about you, if you had one magical power, what would it be?


Anonymous said...

I shared a measure of your sadness and his sadness as I read your words. I'm so sorry. I know a little about how it can feel when you think you are beginning to lose someone in the memories. We try hard to hang on to the details but perhaps it is enough that we remember the love we had for that person. That is in the end more important than any events or details.

May your memories be also a source of joy.

Stinkypaw said...

lgsquirrel: Thank you for your kind comment. My memories are also a source of joy, and love. :-)