Tuesday was my father's birthday. I have not been back to Denver since his death, so I planned on going to his grave on his birthday. See if there is a stone yet, leave a flower, wish him a happy birthday.
Yeah, I know.
So, I went, spent about 10 minutes trying to remember where his grave was. Took some pictures. Lost control.
I could not wish him a happy birthday. Yeah, he is not there. It is my belief that he is not only separated from this life but from God as well, for all eternity, by his own informed choice. There is no one to wish happy birthday to. And I lost it.
All of those years of frustration and anger at the injustices he subjected me to, all of the pain he inflicted upon me, all came roaring back. For the first time in my life - I felt something towards him, and it was not worthy of me to have felt so of anyone. Such is the new nature now that I do have emotions.
I reread what I wrote upon his death. Yeah, it is still true and yet it was written by the old me, someone whom had never had a feeling in his entire life. Today, that short memory would have been far different.....
I felt so sorry for my friend whom was with me, for I was truly a basket case.
As for the poppy, his mother's favorite name for him was Poppi, her wild flower. More true than she ever knew.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
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