Stupid as it sounds, I never imagined my life without Dad. He and I didn’t have the easiest of relationships. As a little girl, I desperately wanted his presence, wanted him to notice me, wanted him there, with me. So, stupid as it sounds, his absence then felt like a presence, even though his actual presence was erratic and intermittent. We didn’t see each other, didn’t contact each other for many years. Oh, I kept track of him for most of that time, via the wonders of the internet. And then, the London bombings happened near to where he worked, and that was my wake-up call. Life is too short. Oh, how prescient was that thought, for what was too short a time after that, he died. I never imagined what that would feel like, how angry, desolate, lost, hurt, devastated I would feel. I have healed, as we all do, but he is there, in my mind, every day. He is once again absent, this time permanently gone, but always with me.
Leaves turn, green to gold
seasons change, nature gives birth –
death to life once more.
It’s Haibun Monday over on dVerse and we are asked to write our haibun on the subject of change, including a nature-based haiku to wrap up our piece.
I write not infrequently about my dad – he’s in my thoughts every day. It’s a strange thing, I never imagining him being gone, given that he was absent for so much of my life. Oddly, my mum and step-dad, my supporters, my cheerleaders, my safe harbours who have seen me through good times and bad – well, I do think of what it will be like when they are no longer here (gosh, that sounds morbid, it’s not meant to!). My mum did say to me, not long after my dad died, that her own mum was in her thoughts every day, even though she died when my mum was a little girl. I truly understand that. It’s not a conscious thought, it just is.
Anyway, I’m sure that everyone else who takes part tonight will approach this theme in their own unique way. Please do head on over to dVerse to enjoy the creativity!
Freya Writes... 
This is such a lovely haibun. I miss my father everyday as well. My father and I were very close and it broke my heart when he died. The haiku says it all. Seasons change, birth to life to death to life.
Thank you. I’m sorry for your loss.
I really love the part of how those bombings came as a warning bell… so you could savor the time you had… but how hard such a parting had to be… I sometimes miss my father, and mostly for the things i never said… and yes this time of the year is the one where we contemplate change the most…
Yes, definitely the things never said…
I am lucky that my parents are still alive, though both are frail with their pacemakers. They take care of themselves in my brother’s house and remind us everyday how a strong a family can be when we care for each other. Hugs to you. Love the haiku of hope and birth after death.
Thank you Grace – your parents sound wonderful!
There’s a reason why we have Halloween in the autumn, isn’t there? This time of year brings reflections on loss and mortality and death, and all that stuff. I’m glad you had that call to re-connect with your father – but I think sometimes those more difficult relationships make the hardest bereavements, just because things can’t be changed any more. You have made me think – I don’t usually leave such long comments, but you’ve made me think all kinds of interesting thoughts. Thank you for a lovely haibun, finishing with such an evocative haiku.
Thank you, Sarah. Yes, there’s the day of the dead as well, where those that are gone are honoured… a wonderful tradition. And I agree – those with whom we’ve had the hardest relationships make for the most difficult of partings.
How ironic that now that he’s actually gone for good he seems more present with you as you think about him. I do understand. You put your heart into this writing, Freya, and I feel it deeply…thanks for sharing.
Yes, it is ironic, I agree. Thank you.
I am so sorry for your loss, Freya.. this is a beautiful and poignant haibun! Sending love and peace 💖
Thank you, Sanaa.
What a lovely piece about loss and discovery.
I like: permanently gone, but always with me
And your haiku is beautiful, a perfect finish.
Thank you so much.
Fathers and daughters have a special relationship, that’s for sure. Not always easy, and that’s also for sure.
Agreed!
So glad for you that you were able to connect before losing him definitely. It’s weird how we seem to think someone will always be there and then, they are not.
It is indeed very strange. Thank you, Victoria.
Relationships are always fraught with ‘What if?’ A moving tribute.
Aren’t they just! Thank you, Brian.
For when a Parent
leaves close or distant
those eYes of parent
in some ways go on in eYes
of child.. as every pARt of
connection becomes
Art of whole
Painting
with
canvas
Fillng with
Love as Lost
can prepare us
to Love more than less
as nows of lost and found come..
Love…
Lost and
Found Loves
a way of more..:)
Thank you, as always…
I lost my dad without resolving our differences. It is so easy to relax into this life and forget the fragility of life. After also losing my brother very suddenly, I do tend to veer to towards the reality of death at any time, morbid as that may sound. Live each moment, I say….yet I am always worrying about the loss. Tough balance for sure.
I agree, it is a very tough balance. I’m sorry you weren’t able to resolve your differences with your dad… and also so sorry to read that you lost your brother so suddenly x
What you have written is so familiar it’s as if you’ve written it for me. Thank you, Freya.
You’re very welcome, Kim.
Changing seasons….cycle of life. You’ve written your feelings well here. I agree — when someone is on this earth and absent, they are somehow more apart. When they have left this earth, and truly absent, they are somehow more with us.
I found this compelling and touching. Thanks for sharing. 🙂
Thank you very much.
At least something good came of those awful bombings. So glad that you had a chance to get some closure. And I think of my dad, too, despite the fact that our relationship wasn’t all I might have wished. I do feel his presence, occasionally, too.
Yes, otherwise we may never have had any more time with each other. Death of a loved one is a strange and inexplicable thing.