I was 12 years old when my daddy died.He suffered for many months of lung cancer and I thought I was to blame for a long time. We didnt have a very close relationship and I never got to know who he really was. When I think of him I remember the pain he was in, the oxygen tank beside his bed and all the drugs he took to stop the pain. Even though I saw that he was dying I never believed he would really die and now I'm left with regrets of not telling him that I loved him.
Sometimes I feel like that 12 year old girl scared and withdrawn afraid that one day I wouldnt have my daddy anymore. Most of what happened is a blur and I have very few memories. I try to think about the happy memories I have. Like when I was in grade six I would run home and my dad would have lunch ready for me and we would watch the Flinstones.I hold on to these times very dearly becausse as I get older its harder to remember. When he finally died a part of me died with him. I will never forget how I felt walking into the hospital room and seeing him lying there dead. I wanted to cry but I couldnt, I kissed him goodbye and went home. Everything from that point seems like a dream. Maybe I just didnt understand what death meant. When I saw him lying in his casket at the funeral I stood beside him pleading with him to come back wishing it were me that had died. I dont know exactly why he was taken away from my family so soon, but from it I am going into counselling psychology and I want to help others who are dealing with the loss of a loved one.
Its still hard today to talk about him, but I know he wouldnt want me to be suffering for so long. I just wish I had gotten the chance to say "I love You Daddy", maybe by writing this he will know.
Goodby Daddy I miss you everyday. Love Kimmie
Thank you for letting me tell you this and for reading my story.
You can send email to Kimmie at: firstname.lastname@example.org
date of post 03-15-97