Christmas, Christmas, Go Away
A year ago today, was the last time I spoke to my dad. He started talking about politics and I shrugged him off, trying to get off the phone quickly so I could watch Bryce open presents.
My dad passed away on April 13.
I knew I'd be in a funk this week, but the funk didn't hit me until Christmas Eve morning. And it hit me like a brick wall in the face.
I want so badly to call him up and say how sorry I am for blowing him off and not calling him for four months. Hell, I didn't even call him on his birthday - Dec 31. I want to tell him how sorry I am for always skirting around telling him that I miss him too, because I did. And I do. More than ever now because I can't. I can't just call him and apologize.
As I lay here, in the dark, underneath my comforter so I don't wake my sister, on Christmas Day, I'm thinking of my dad and I've never felt so alone.
My dad passed away on April 13.
I knew I'd be in a funk this week, but the funk didn't hit me until Christmas Eve morning. And it hit me like a brick wall in the face.
I want so badly to call him up and say how sorry I am for blowing him off and not calling him for four months. Hell, I didn't even call him on his birthday - Dec 31. I want to tell him how sorry I am for always skirting around telling him that I miss him too, because I did. And I do. More than ever now because I can't. I can't just call him and apologize.
As I lay here, in the dark, underneath my comforter so I don't wake my sister, on Christmas Day, I'm thinking of my dad and I've never felt so alone.
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