Sorrow

Sorrow just lingers. Or, my sorrow lingers. At times the pain is stomach churning. Triggered by commercials, TV shows, the changing of the seasons.

I want to run to my dad and put my arms around him. Curl my body next to his, and hold on tightly. Flashes of us in his living room, him in the hospital bed, fixate in my mind. I see his half smile contained within his chemo bloated face. I hear silence and my inability to tell him how sorry and scared I am. I see fear that I will be a blubbering mess and cause discomfort for anyone else around. I wanted minutes and hours with my dad. Alone. I was too uncomfortable to ask for this and now the moment has passed. I should have been braver and spoke out loud. I should have not cared how I would look or how awkward the intrusions of others may have been. I should have comforted him and comforted me. I should have done alot of moments differently.

What I remember most were his hands, fingers, feeling out for mine and his tight grip upon my hands. He didn't say it, but it was like he never wanted to let go.

If life were a do-over, I would have changed the months following his diagnosis. I would have gone to see him every other weekend. I would have insisted on more time. I would have been braver. I would have loved with out abandon. I would have memorized every detail. I would have been better.