A Story to Tell

I have a story to tell but I do not know what it is. Sitting in the silence brings up all kinds of anger. Anger at people who failed to call. People who do not ask how I am. People who pretend I should be over this. People who think losing a parent is no big deal. I do not wish to engage. I do not wish to approach them and tell them how deeply hurt I am. Without means of understanding. I sit, confused. Unbelieving that my father is gone. How is it truly possible that my hero disappeared into thin air without even a simple good bye? I wonder what is my part in this story. This hurts like nothing I've ever felt. I wonder where do I go. Where do I stand? All these question run, run, and run through my brain. I wonder dad what you would say. Sometimes I hear you... in my ear faintly whispering the answer. What would you say about how I am coping? What would you say to each of us? Would you be proud of me? Would you give me a big hug? How I wish I could have only said goodbye.

I have a story to tell 

But I do not know what it is. 

It has yet to unfold. 

I sit in the silence as if the answer will expose itself. 

All there is anger. 

Why did you not call?

Why am I invisible?

How can I live without my father? 

It all filters slowly through my heart.

No sense can be made.

A fire begins to build

I shield it.

For I do not know what kind of storm it will bring.

I fear it's strength.

The distructive nature that I've felt. 

Without my calm father.

The emotions spill out like lava. 

And I turn, and turn, and turn

staring at a blank canvas.

One day my story will be told.

It will help others understand their's.