my father

I miss what he was meant to be. I wonder what he was like. What type of music did he like to listen to? What did his toes look like? How did he eat spaghetti? What were his opinions on gay and trans people? What did his handwriting look like?

I can’t remember what it felt like to be in his arms, to be the reason that he smiled. I always find myself wondering what my life would have been like if he was here to participate in it. Would I have turned out differently to the person I am today? Would his influence have made me a better person? What kind of advice would he give me when I’m having a hard time?

I feel his absence like a hole in my chest. But that hole has always been there and I don’t know any differently. How do you miss someone that you never knew?

The word Dad or Daddy is foreign on my tongue. I look at my friends and their fathers and just find it so odd that they have this close loving relationship where I just have a gaping hole.

He died when I was three years old. It’s been seventeen years and I still have questions. Questions that will haunt me forever because they will never be answered.


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