I spend my days with a hollow ache through the center of my body and a restlessness that shifts and paces inside me. I miss my father; I miss the gentle hum of his spirit, his wry sense of humor, his clean and clear memory of the details of my life.
It took us some time to develop that relationship. After watching each other from a distance (living in the same home) during my childhood, he stepped forward to be more active in my life when I was in my early twenties. He wrote me a poem that spoke about his being busy making a living for the family and I got lost in the shuffle. I have an older brother with mental illness which always caused a pooling of my parents concern and attention around him. In the poem my father said in different words that I always seemed like I could take care of myself. He turned that around by making loving overtures and we built a very close relationship over these thirty years. And now he is gone and I hurt down to the core.