This is the last time I talked to you. I am glad you answered the phone for me, but on the flip side, you sounded really sick. It wasn't unusual for our phone calls to be short, sweet, to the point. I didn't think much of it when I hit end call- no one ever does. Now I wish I would have kept you on the phone, now I wish I could still be on the phone with you, til my arm falls off of my body. I wish I would have kept your voice on the line til I reached you, til I could have seen you in person and maybe stop what it is you did. I can't even promise I would have been able to change your mind. That hurts worse. Maybe you still would have done it even if I had seen you that night. Maybe you wouldn't have. Now I'll never know.
I miss you more every day, dad. It hurts worse every day. I carry on for you, for the family, for Liz. I put on a brave face most days, but I just wanna be held by you and be called your little girl again.
No comments:
Post a Comment