The void he felt since his father died was filled in an unexpected way.
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The doctor said he had about two weeks left to live.That night, I went to bed unsure if he’d make it through the night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I do remember waking up the next morning.
My mother, whose red, glassy eyes hung heavily from her face, was sitting on the couch next to me. I knew before she spoke. She said the words anyway: “Daddy’s gone.”
The words came as fast as the tears rolling down her cheeks.
In another context, “Daddy’s gone” could’ve meant anything: Daddy’s gone to work. Daddy’s gone for the day. Daddy’s gone to the store.
On this day, it meant he was gone.
Forever.
I cried.
My father and I shared no last words.
We didn’t get to say goodbye to each other.
He didn’t pass along any fatherly advice for me to live by.
At 11 years old I lost someone who was, despite being flawed and faulted, my hero. Not only did I lose my hero but I lost a piece of myself.
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When my father passed away it left a void in my soul that I tried filling with everything from drugs to alcohol to rebellion. My entire life became about the search for this something I was missing, even as I went into my teens, my 20s, and into my early 30s.
I never imagined what I’ve been searching for since the day I lost my father would return in the form of two little girls.
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It wasn’t until I had my first daughter that this restless feeling went away. It was almost overnight that I stopped looking for the something that was missing from my life.
It hit me.
Since my father passed away, I looked for someone to take his place. Some leader or mentor. Someone to guide me. Someone who would be like a father to me, to show me how to be a father. I always thought this person would come in the form of a father-figure.
I never imagined what I’ve been searching for since the day I lost my father would return in the form of two little girls. It’s my children who’ve settled my soul. They teach me how to be a father. They give me what my father couldn’t. They show me my strengths and weaknesses. I’m constantly aware of my actions and words. Because of this, I get a little better at life each day.
[H]ow lucky I am to greet my daughters as they open their eyes and start each day.
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There will always be the memory of waking up to the news of my father’s death but it no longer haunts me as it once did. It’s a reminder now. A little push to remember how lucky I am to greet my daughters as they open their eyes and start each day. I embrace those moments when my daughters and I make eye contact and share smiles because I know one day—sometime far in the future, I hope—they will wake up and I will no longer be here.
When that time comes, I don’t want there to be anything left unshared between us. I want to have said our goodbyes. I want to have passed along everything I’ve learned from raising them, so they can raise their own.
Most importantly I don’t want to leave them feeling any voids. I want to fill their lives with joy and love. I want them to know they’ve filled my life with the same.
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This post was originally published on the author’s blog and is republished here with his permission.
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Photo credit:Flickr/Tony Alter
my father is death in feb 2016 after my father death my sibling can’t tolerate my studies if anyone give me and my disable sister save place to live so i will do for them all house work and i can do for them all house work and servant of house and pay my university fees thank u soo much . i am from pakistan . my 12 class result came in 2016 october
Simple message …. ya never know when the end will come. Simple message. live your life to the fullest every day.
I lost my dad when I was 20 and although I had an additional 9 years you didn’t have, I had/have similar feelings. Your dad gave you far more then you think. His passing when you were only 11 within itself gave you immeasurable knowledge and the older you get, you’ll find that in those short 11 years, he gave you more then you can immagine.
Great job John.