Daily Word Prompt Missing
I saw this word and immediately thought of my deceased father. I never thought I would be missing him, but I am. I miss his stupid phone calls. I miss taking him to doctor appointments. I miss the chaos he used to cause whenever I had to drive him somewhere. While I was driving, he loved to pinch my arm that was on the steering wheel. It would make me jump and freaked me out because wtf. I didn’t want to get into an accident and here this asshole is making me uncomfortable driving. He would always laugh when I told him to stop. And the endless directions of where to go. Go down this way, no go this way. I know a short cut. Take this right/left. I actually listened to him one night while driving home from his sister’s and we got lost. Never again will I listen to him. And now I will never again hear him give directions on how to get somewhere.
It’s been seven months since he has passed. It still feel like yesterday. I am glad the intrusive thoughts of his death have passed. I think I have been traumatized by his death because I never seen a human being die before. It wasn’t pleasant. I am grateful that when we brought him to his apartment, he died within a few hours and wasn’t a long drawn out affair.
I remember the whole day that he died, from the moment we came and saw him to the transport of bringing him home, to his final breath. I still feel anger for some reason. I don’t know if it is because of the way I felt towards him or because of the stages of grief. I feel stuck in it and I can’t get unstuck. Not that I am an angry person. I am not, least I don’t think I am. My father was. He was also very vengeful. It really pissed me off that things that had nothing to do with him, pissed him off. He would tell stories and I couldn’t help to think that this man was nuts with anger. Oh how he hated my grandmother (mother’s mother).
But despite all these wicked stories and aggravations, I miss seeing and hearing from him nearly every day. Every time I get notification of the bus line that brought me to his door, I think of him. Every time I see the bus, which is frequently, I think of him. He hated me taking the bus over going to the train station, because it was “easier and faster”. It really was the same time as taking the bus to his house. His sense of time was different than other peoples. And he hated waiting. The man had nothing better to do yet he would have a damn fit if the doctors were late seeing him. One time the doc was almost an hour late and he wanted to leave. I told him we couldn’t or we wouldn’t be able to get his medication refilled. He hated that I had an evening appointment with this doc but I didn’t. It was the first one available and I took it because I didn’t want my father to run out of his medication and then have the hassle of not getting it because he hasn’t been seen. He doctor was an asshole. But he provided care to my father and I was grateful for that.
It is tough around the holidays and birthdays. Not seeing him at these parties is a heartbreaker. This will be the first Christmas without him and it will mark his eighth month of his passing so it will be a difficult day. My sister was crying at Thanksgiving and I think she will cry again on Christmas. She was closer to my father than I was. I had to distance myself from him because he loved to torture me so much. But I would give anything to hear him make fun of me again.