One Year After

Sigh.  
I guess that I was hoping that somehow,
magically,
I would no longer miss my father. 
That I would be able to stop comparing
the days after the cancer won,
to the days before we knew it existed. 

Although it never told me so, 
my heart knew things wouldn’t
play out as I desperately hoped.
Sometimes we have to grasp,
cling,
at the unrealistic to get by.

Though my heart doesn’t really care,
my brain is begining to wonder…
what will happen to me now? 
     it’s been a year
shouldn’t I be over this by now? 
     it’s been a year
shouldn’t I have some sense of closure?  
     it’s been a fucking year
shouldn’t I at least be able to pretend that I’m okay?

I don’t, can’t, let my mother know what I’m going through.
My sister was the Daddy’s Girl,
and without him is batshit crazy, 
forcing me to be the strong one.
The one my mother can rely on. 
The one my mother doesn’t worry about.

My husband sees the cracks in my veneer
and though he would never tell me to my face, 
I know he doesn’t understand…
why I can’t get past this hole in my heart.
why I spend sleepless nights in the living room.
why I sleep all day in the recliner.
why I mope around the house for days at a time.
why I snap at him for no apparent reason.
and why I never say I’m sorry when I do.

Is it because I can’t get past it?      -or-
Is it because I don’t want to get past it??
I do know that something has to happen
soon
before my father’s cancer claims another victim.

2 Responses

  1. Just checked in to see if you’d posted anything new –

    and, wow. Here’s this poem (to which you know I can relate) that’s raw and true and painful.

    “Is it because I don’t want to get past it??”

    I know exactly what you mean.

  2. Holy crap, LaMar. You articulate yourself so well….I felt I was right there with you. Good thoughts to you, friend.

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