Thursday, July 28, 2005

Back to Life

No, I have not fallen off the face of the planet. Instead my Josh came home for his midtour from Iraq and we vacationed (aka hung out) for 2 and a half weeks. In this time a great many things happened... I loved having him home and will surely write a long drawn out post about that. But, in true Kellie fashion, I will write about the dark cloud in my sky that loomed in last week...

this would be the death of my father.

I didn't know my father.

Not really. As if living in two seperate houses isn't enough of a seperation, we were living in two seperate continents. Two seperate worlds completely. They were once one, but it's so long ago I can't remember what that was like. They collided occassionally, but in general my father was very much not a part of my life.

When I was a kid I used to pretend we were close. I'd lie to kids at school. Talk about my dad's accent. Give a false impression. That I had this awesome dad who lived abroad and called me on the weekends, begging me to come and visit and stay for my summer vacation. A father who sent me gifts just because. Trinkets he'd pick up on his adventures, knowing how much I'd love them, always including a long letter full of his love. In reality my father never called me, wrote me sparatically, and the only gifts I received were on Christmas, vague gifts for the daughter he'd never know. A card signed only "love, Dad". I can only guess he never knew what else to say.

The night before our designated "Father Daughter Day"(6 years ago) in my hometown of Coleraine Northern Ireland my dad got so drunk he tore the phone out of the house and threatened to kill his father, my grandad. The next day was filled with a shell of a man, too high to function, or even hold a conversation. I left the day empty. But in true Danny fashion, the next day was filled with fun. Sober and funny, we spend the day together. Laughing, making fun of my mom, telling stories, trying to involve each other in our completely seperate lives. I left with high hopes.

Years and unanswered letters later here I sit. A woman who's led her entire life without her father being a part of it (I had a dad growing up- he was my grandpa and he raised me since I was 6- so I didn't go without), yet somehow the loss of him feels greater than anticipated. Not because he was a great man. Or a great father figure. Just a stranger to me. What makes me sad is that's all he'll ever be now. The door has officially been shut. It's a decisiveness I wasn't prepared for. But it's over now.

Before my dad died he sent me a message. Truly a message from the grave since I didn't get it until the night after he had passed. That he was proud of me, glad I was getting married... he'd gotten all my letters. Why he had to wait until it was all too late I'll never know. But at least I know he read them. Unanswered until the end, but I suppose that was a way to show his love.So now I written the story of my father and I.
Short, not so sweet and now over.

There's no epilogue to death.
posted by Kellie @ 12:16 PM |


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