Just Another Thought

It's sad when you realize, that the biggest memory you have of your father is the saddest one of all.
It's sad when you can barely remember his face,
Nor his smell,
Or even how he spoke or wrote.
What you end up remembering when your father practically dies in front of you,
Is words your grandmother and mother spoke to you to make you feel better.
But you sit there watching him die,
There's nothing you could ever try to make him wake up and jump around,
And it breaks your heart as a 16 year old,
Only wanting her father to be sitting on the couch with you, laughing and making jokes!
It hurts worse when the next several years,
You are surrounded by chaos.
You make a mad dash towards what you hope will make you forget that day,
But instead all it does is,
Make your heart hurt worse.

You surround yourself with people,
Act like a different person in the hopes that what will become of it,
Is NOT what actually comes to be.

You sit around the house all day,
Wondering what the fuck you could do to stop the madness ensuing your mind,
And then you go outside, hoping you'll find something or someone to change your mind.
But instead what you find is the last thing you wanted.

So you spend most of the next decade, trying to grow up.
You try to make the best of things including -
Getting jobs, that you can't stand.
Making friends, that only want you for the things your father was able to give you before he passed.
Dating people - That take your vulnerability as a game.
Seeking help, that you can't manage to even wrap your head around.
Actively seeking out your self-destructive mode, just so you can cope in some way.
And finally, pretending all the time that what you saw, and what you know, hasn't hindered your ability to make things right with your own self.

That day...

I realize now, that what I was seeking out was not to say goodbye to my father,
But to have some hope that what was being told to me, was not true.
But I ended up with the truth, and it fucking killed me.

How do you manage to, basically, watch your own loving father die,
And then get up the next day, for the next decade, and try to live your life?

It's never been a curious thing to me why I can't ever manage myself,
Cuz I've known the truth since day 1.

And let's be honest -
There is no one but myself to blame for this.
I asked my mother to take me.
I demanded I go.
Would you seriously deny your daughter the last chance of seeing her father alive, especially when you couldn't bare to tell her this, when she saw her father that same day, hours ago, when he was still up and aware, and didn't tell her to say her goodbyes?
Would you deny this simple thing to "Daddy's Little Girl?"

I would hope not.