When I was writing my piece "I am who I am" I forgot to mention that the saddest day in my life was when the doctors told us: "your father did not make it". At the age of 62 my dad was gone. One minute he was talking to my mom, the next minute he had a heart attack and we would never see him again.
For a long, long time my dad was my favorite person - he was my protector, he was my friend, he was my confidante. He taught my brother and I about honesty, about tolerance towards all the people, about kindness, about hard work. He wanted to make sure we would grow up decent people, even if his lessons had to be tough sometimes.
..... And it does not matter if I was 2 years old or 22 years old I always felt like his little girl.
For the past 16 years my brother and I, while visiting my fathers grave, still feel the pain of our loss which never seems to go away. We try to continue our interrupted conversations which were never finished, or try to say our good byes, which was never told.
Fathers Day is coming and this day along with his birthday are two of the most difficult days for me. These are the days all I feel is pain.