fire and rain and rockabye sweet baby james

i can't fall asleep anymore. most nights i lie in bed and think, i eat a bowl of cereal, i sketch with my charcoals or collage some, i read, i pray. tonight i have been starring at the ceiling and thinking about the things i miss in my life. i miss my dad the most. i miss his advice. i think about what his voice sounded like and how i can't really remember it at all. even the word death isn't as painful as that reality.

it's strange how my memories feel so distant. they are like videos of someone elses life, some black and white film of a girl and her dad at the grocery store, driving home from school, hugs, and bandaids, dinner, listening to records, and reading the paper.

and still so much of me reminds me of him- my habbits, my music, my strange collections, and my laugh. i can't let go of that, it can't change, i have to keep him real to me. when did i become his legacy?

this may sound crazy, but for so long i felt like i was waiting. after the greiving stopped, knowing my dad wasn't here anymore felt the same as if he were away on a trip and i couldn't talk to him. sometimes i catch myself wondering if he will call me. it's insane, i know. but what do i do? i miss him, i lie in bed at 2:34 am and think about our debates on music, his smell, his big love, the car we built together, our life.

there's something about knowing you will never see someone again that inspires regret, a world of regret in fact. and it isn't convenient nor is it comfortable, but deep down it's there, and no matter how much i tell myself i've moved on, because i have a heart i will always wonder. because the truth is- i will never have those days back, they are long gone and all at once i miss the one man who was larger than life to me.

even so, i am a hopeful little one and i continue to look for the good in everything. i see what his life has inspired in myself and in others. one day i will tell my children about him. from this day on and until i die i'll be my fathers daughter and every beard will remind me of his, and i will read the books he read, and when i see the atlantic ocean i will see his face.