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Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Letters of a Father

I see the morning as though it were the sun setting its gaze to the night.   Upon light there is a journey to be travelled and misty trails to be unraveled.  Though it will set after its hours of purpose, the light or rather the texture of the lessons it gives are never forgotten and often eagerly anticipated for the next day.
I ask you, son, to remember all the lessons that I have taught you and better yet the lessons I never had the chance to teach you.  This lies in the sole reason that you embraced my mentor himself, Mankind.  The day that I looked into your eyes to tell you that your mother had left us, not because she did not love us but it was because she was summoned by the heavens to look after us, I was not looking to you to be a man but I looked on in hope that you would mature because my efforts to nurture are limited by all of man’s prehistoric virtue of strength, which makes me just a pillar to lean on.  My arms can only offer comfort to you and you siblings when things get a little rough for you.  I will, too, use these arms to defend you although like your fragile heart, it felt as though these limbs were torn from me when I knew to this morning I would be robbed of my first breath of day and that morning’s light would not be as bright as I have known it to be all these years.  That one light that stood as a lantern on my darkest days is gone.
It seems as though my every breath is unbalanced, with the taking in of air being so deep and the releasing of it sounding like sigh, this is because I cannot bypass the place she has in my heart, and every part of me goes past that portion which she owns after God.  I need you to understand that I know every possible thing that you could feel at this present moment, the void that fills you in the knowledge that we will never have a moment to embrace her and feel the pound in her chest that had kept us all going.  I look at you from time to time and in my heart I know that you are looking at the mental pictures you have of her, you still drift away to the words she shared with you, the sound of them is still so sonorous. I try to keep it in but the remanence of her last kiss still lingers my lips thus the tremble that resides my lips which begins the awful weeping which consumes me every night I look over your bed.
We men were made soldiers at birth, but non of us will say that they are well equipped for such a life altering event.  The loss of a loved one is forever compounded in one day so live thousands of lifetimes in our own after they are gone.  Live those days more than I can because your mother is all around us.

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