as a child, i remember when my father and i were separated. it was a night like any other, i must have been around five. we were living in a women's shelter as my father got better from his bad habits. i remember i was relatively happy and i think it was a couple months after not seeing him, i went to my room and went berserk. i pulled books off my shelves, threw my stuffed animals, ripped the sheets off my bed. i was screaming and crying and when my mom came in to see what was wrong, i was seething with anger, tears running down my face and hair matted to my sweaty forehead. at first i could see anger in her face from what i had done and then it softened and she asked me what was wrong. i just sobbed, took a blanket, and sat on my bed. she sat on the edge and i blurted out, "i miss daddy. where is he?"

when we moved back in with him, i was ecstatic. i was used to his temper; his anger. i was used to him punching holes in the walls, throwing things, ripping his shirts up.... he was my dad and i loved him the way he was. when we moved from that house to another one, in a smaller town, i remember he would sometimes work until 6 or 8 in the evening. i remember i would sit at the door with our dog, faithfully waiting. that, or i'd be upstairs, listening very carefully. just at the sound of the door, i'd come bounding down the stairs into my father's arms. i was so happy to see him.

it's hard to explain what it's like missing him. it's kind of like this prolonged hope that sits in your chest with a bitterness attached. to me, it feels like i'm still waiting at the door for him to walk through; i'm still listening for him to open the door and yell hello. it hurts, a lot. there's no other way to describe it, but that it hurts with every breath you take remembering him. when you aren't thinking of him consciously, you fall back into your habit; he's at home. he'll be home. he won't be gone.

sometimes i lay in bed just letting my heart jump. today, i heard a noise in the kitchen when no one was home and instantly thought, "dad's up". he wasn't.

it hurts to have this kind of missing, though. i want to catch my breath and recognize he won't be coming home but i think i have this hope, this tiny retraction of breath because i feel i will see him again one day.

for once, i think i'm going to say what went through my mind when i was told my father was gone:

at first, my mind drew a blank. it took a quick second to fully realize what was just told to me. before tears could fill my eyes, before my body could tense, i saw a lot of everything. i saw us carving pumpkins. i saw him telling me how much loved the song "we didn't light the fire" by billy joel. i remembered helping him do yard work, pulling a snapdragon head off and him getting angry. i remembered his face full of pride when i was excited at the tree house he built me. of the garden we made in the back. i saw him holding me, his eyes full of concern and sympathy trying to stop me from crying. i remembered him drying me with a towel when i was little, staying up late to watch wrestling and married with children.

after that, my body finally reacted. i felt dizzy, nauseous, i felt disbelief. i felt this instant longing to talk to him, to see him. i felt this clear, immovable heaviness and emptiness all at once. i couldn't see straight and i just began wailing. i remembered how kurtis inched into the room as my sister told me i had the decision of whether to stay or not. i chose to stay, to be held by the last man in my life that knew me. i went to the bathroom a lot, almost vomiting many of the times. i splashed water on my face, i tried making the tears stop but they wouldn't. kurtis held me as much as he could and i kept listening to music on my ipod, finding songs that might soothe me.

i kept wailing how he'd never see my do anything monumental in my life. how he couldn't be gone. that he had to be home and this was all some cruel joke. that this wasn't supposed to happen and that he was being saved. it was futile but the denial gave me time for my body to fully respond.

it was like that day when i missed my father when i was younger. the next day i was fine and i went back into my room and my sister and mother had cleaned it and everything was back in order. my life was back to normal.

unfortunately, this longing will never suffice. this aching will never end and i'm not sure this pain will ever dull. tomorrow my life will not be put back in order and it will not be the same ever again. i'm not sure people recognize it, but i still miss him very much. it is still very hard to see children with their fathers. it is still hard to not cry every night as i lay in bed, reminding myself he won't be there when i wake up. it hurts, so very much.

i still feel i have done no justice in describing the initial shock. maybe it's because i'm still within it. i'm not sure. i'm confused, i'm lost, and i'm hoping someone will show me what to do. all i know to do right now is breathe and focus on what i need to get done.

i'll always miss him, you know? i'm sure people understand that. i'm always going to miss his hugs, his smiles. his laughter, his inexcusable humour. i'll never forget the joy he gave me or the pride he had in me. i'll never forget the lessons he taught me, especially this one. i'll never forget that he was such a great man, someone to admire for he overcame many obstacles and left this life with pride and vigilance. he fought until the end and he was a courageous man. i only hope to be half the person he was.

so tonight, i'll go to bed. i'll probably cry a little and hopefully dream about him. i'll wake up and start another day, missing him with every hour that passes.