Did I simply forget, or purposely choose not to remember? Since 1995, the year of my fathers suicide I try to always block Fathers Day out. This is not out of bitterness or anger towards my dad. I understand that he had to leave this world, life was too painful for him. Yesterday I was forced to realize fathers day. However, it was very therapeutic for me. I had the great fortune of being invited to a baseball game by one of my closest friends. There is no denying the fact that my dad was a huge baseball fan.
Yesterday as "America The Beautiful" was sang thousands of thoughts raced through my mind. The outings taken with my father, me, and my brother. The countless hours playing silly games in the pool. And always, always my father being there when I needed him. I glance around the stadium at all of the many fathers with their children. The tears start to well up in my throat. "No"! I say to myself.
I don't let myself cry. I let myself fall back in time and remember the many baseball games my father took us to in my youth. I always knew, always knew the truth. I was aware of it even then. I knew I would lose my father when I was young. I just had to hold on to the time I had left with him. At 21 he slipped through my fingers just as I had predicted. My father did not want anyone to cry or morn over him, he just wanted to exit this world, move on to the next existance and heal his wounds. As crazy as this sounds, I feel that if we keep morning he will not be able to let go.
As the song ends I am brought back to reality. I see up on the electronic board the stadium has flashed "happy fathers day".
"Happy fathers day dad". I whisper to myself. And in my own way I have set myself and my father free.
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