Thursday, February 4

Laughing eyes...


I still miss your smile and your laughing eyes. I am supposed to take comfort from the fact that you are still with me because I look so much like you, and I have the same laughing eyes that you did. Those beautiful blue eyes that shone when you looked at me. They sparkled when you laughed and smiled, which you did often. Despite deep sorrow inside from what life had thrown at you, you carried on and still laughed and smiled, and I could see how much you loved me when you looked at me, even when I visited you in hospital, the very last time I saw you. 

Your eyes were different then. They weren't the sparkling blue that I was used to. They were grey and dull, but when you saw me, they lit up and sparkled for one last time. Everyone commented about it after you'd gone. They said it was like a small miracle. You had been so sad and dispondent. They said your soul was dying along with you. They could see in your eyes, the way they'd dulled, that you were going. Yet when I came to see you, they changed for one last time. I have to admit, I was a bit shocked to see your lifeless eyes, to start with but the immediate change when you saw me was uplifting. I knew I'd never see you alive again. It was so very painful for me. And as I said goodbye to you, and told you that I'd be back again the following week on Father's Day I knew I wouldn't get to look into those eyes again. If only I didn't live so far away, you know I'd have been there every day with you. Your eyes changed right before me as I gave you a kiss and told you I love you and I'd see you soon. It was like someone was pulling the curtains over your eyes again. They changed back to grey, no longer the vibrant blue that I knew and loved. You didn't tell me you'd see me soon. You said I love you, and told me to take care and look after myself. You told Mark, not asked, told him to take care of me, you made him promise. I knew then that this was the last time.  Two days later you were gone. I'd never look into those eyes again. They'd never shine with your smile, or say I love you without speaking. No one would ever look at me and adore me again, the way you did. 

Yesterday should have been your birthday. You should have been 72, but you were taken from me six years ago. You were taken from us all, but I know that your death affected me the most. Six years later, I'm sat typing this with tears rolling down my cheeks once more, missing you so much it hurts. It's supposed to get easier with time, easier to deal with. Whilst I don't cry on a daily basis, I only have to stop and think of you for a moment and the pain of you not being here anymore is so bad, just like it was the day you died.

I can't talk to anyone in our family about it, although I've tried. They don't get it. They don't understand how it still hurts me so much, afterall, it's almost six years. I should have got a grip on it now. Generally I do, but there are times when I just get so emotional about you not being here anymore. 

I love you Dad. It's no good wishing you happy birthday because it's no longer your birthday. It's the date of your birth. It's no longer a happy day, it's a day that makes me sad.