Thirteen years ago about this time on this day, (by the date), I received the worse news of my life - my Dad had died. I know I`d been expecting it, he`d been ill for a few weeks, but I`d only been to seen him the night before, just a few hours really since I`d left him in the hospital bed, and said I`ll see you again on Sunday. I prayed so hard that night for God to ease Dad`s suffering and take him if he would. Yet, I still feel so much guilt about it, about things I should have said to Dad, and didn`t. I just hope he did know how much I loved him.
I remember my `mother saying to me, you won`t go to work this morning will you`it felt a a very hurtful thing to say, as if I could go to work as normal. I remember relatives coming to the house when they knew, just sitting there, talking as if nothing had happened, talking about the curtains, when we`d got them, where etc., and I wanted to scream at them my Dad`s just died what matters about the curtains. But I didn`t. As always I kept things to myself, if was too painful to talk about.
I still miss him awfully, still regret so much. I don`t know if he knew how ill he was, the doctor had told me, but not them, so I had to keep it to myself during those months, and that I suppose made me avoid spending as much time with him as I wanted to for fear that I`d let slip what I knew, but did that make Dad feel I didn`t care about him? that still worries me.