missing . . . something

Last night I came home and finished a movie that I had started the night before -- one that focused on a father/daughter relationship filled with sadness, anger, resentment, loss . . . and then a second chance. I had started the movie the night before with my husband but we were both tired so I shut it off, only to return to it alone. As I watched, I realized how much I've missed with my dad and a tidal wave of grief, like I hadn't felt in years, washed over me.

We all lose the people we love at some point in our lives and it leaves an unfillable hole in our hearts. With perspective, I could say that while I lost my dad early, others lose theirs much earlier. Divorce created a schism in my childhood -- with a father that lived in a different home in a different state so opportunities to really KNOW him were not available in the "typical" way that families that are in tact with both parents around allow. I guess all you can say is Oh Well -- it was just it was and you move forward. I've done that -- pretty much. But I will say that it wasn't exactly great and even though with perspective I know that others have this much worse. Yet -- my epiphany last night or today was that the little part of me that always feels like something is missing -- has a name -- dad.