My Father by Amanda J CobbAll of them stand around, crying, murmuring words of sympathy and understanding at my loss, and what they consider theirs. And though I know they are well-meaning, I have to fight down the urge to scream at them. "You cry?" I want to shout. "You have grief?" He was my father! Whatever you are feeling, multiply that by 100, then add that I couldn't say goodbye, that he was the parent I was close to, that it was his choice to leave, to not be here anymore...ever, to not be there at my graduation, or my wedding, or to meet his grandkids. Add all of that up, with the fact that he was MY father, not someone else's, and you will still have only a fraction of my pain." But I just stand there, dry-eyed, acknowledging their offerings with automatic thanks. I, with perhaps the most reason to cry, have no more tears left to shed. 01/15/2001 Posted on 09/20/2002 Copyright © 2025 Amanda J Cobb
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