Well, here we are. Another Thanksgiving has passed us by….and knowing that you aren’t here to share it with me.
I can’t remember your voice; I don’t remember your face.
You’re only a distant memory.
The dreaded news arrived two years ago on Thanksgiving, saying that my hero, the man that I love and look up to, the man I called “goofy” for so many years because he was beyond silly and loved me, was dying and he only had either a few weeks to live or a few months.
He lasted for five weeks.
I came home for Christmas break from college my Junior year and I remember that he became worst. My Dad took me to see him. He was lying in bed, and I remembered his eyes had lit up when he saw me walk into the room, and he uttered one word: “Katie.”
He knew me.
Tears streamed down my face as I went over and hugged him and kissed him on his cheek and whispered, “Don’t leave me.”
I watched him struggle to survive to remain alive for us.
Christmas came and it was only a matter of time until he was gone from this earth.
Then New Years Eve had come.
And you were gone.
You took your final breath on the first day of the new years.
And I went back to college.
I was alone on campus; I had no one to talk to. No one cared what just happened three days prior.
My world was shaken and nothing was helping me. “Friends” weren’t there; the things that I used to love weren’t comforting me. I stayed in bed, I skipped meals, I missed classes….and no one was there asking what was wrong.
I walked alone and it all felt like a dream. The only people who were there were family that lived an hour away and had no way of getting to them except for weekends.
I’m not a fan of Thanksgiving. I don’t like Christmas. I don’t enjoy New Years. Because those were the moments that I had to see you suffer and die.
I dreaded today. And yes, although I laughed and smiled today, I looked at an empty chair and just thought: “He should be sitting here. You should be sitting here with your wife and with your sons and daughters.”
And you’re not.
You are just a faded memory.
And this is what kills me the most.