As I grew older I over heard words of disappointments from others. When I heard us kids names mentioned I always felt sorry I couldn’t do enough to make him love me as much as I loved him.
When I grew up and got married it seemed like maybe he was proud of me. He smiled and liked me being around. He never actually said he loved me back then, but I just knew. I just wanted my Daddy to accept me for who I was.
When he got sick and we found out he was going to die, a part of my heart and soul died right there on the spot.
Oh it hurt. It hurt real bad. I started taking care of him and weeping behind closed doors. I memorized every move he made. Every thing he saw I photographed in my memory. The crook of his smile. The twinkle in his eyes. Each day I tried my best to grab and hold close to me not wanting to let the next day appear.
When the morning sun did appear and I held my Daddy as he took his lost breath I wept. There is never a day that goes by that I don’t look up to the heavens and know he is up where he belongs smiling down on me.
Life is repeating itself and although I don’t want the sun to shine. I don’t want to hurt, I will some day be looking up to the heavens again knowing my brother is up where he belongs.