A boy lost his father when he was a child. To work, compromise, and a dash of selfish. The boy cried.
A young man lost his father when he was struggling. To indifference, distraction, and lies. The young man yelled.
A man lost his father unexpectedly. To the invisible, the invasive, and neglect. The man was numb.
The void, while shocking, was years in the making. Tender nerve endings of his youth dulled by the missed, the forgotten, and the ignored.
Days expired and the man was angry at the nothingness of it all, the waste. Until one night anger dried up and he was left to confront the end.
No fences left to mend. Nothing left to argue over. Just over.
At that, the man cried.
That’s all from the laundry room. Tuck in.
acceptance adulthood choices coping death family fathers life pain sadness words coping Dads death family grief life
Tale and a half. Well-told.
I think I might actually be looking forward to the “just over” stage; not sure I’ll cry, though.
Write on, Sister.
Thank you, Ron.