A Writer's Notebook, Day Two-Hundred-And-Ten
So, on top of the piece that I posted earlier, I did write another poem, one that is not about my Dad, actually. I don't know if it is working yet, but it is aiming at a fairly complicated idea that recently struck me and which I feel is important to express.
As you probably can guess, I am not entirely on tonight, and I do feel a strong sense of loss at this moment. I come from a fairly close family, and my Dad was a major figure in my life, even as an adult. He and I talked on an almost daily basis, and yet, somehow, I now feel that I didn't really understand so much until he was gone. It is a very strange thing, the way we come to know a person through the absence they leave, and I have come to appreciate my father in many ways that I wish I had understand before it was too late.
Anyhow, I miss him a lot, but I am glad to have had a father like he was, who did so many things for that make me miss him the way I do.
As you probably can guess, I am not entirely on tonight, and I do feel a strong sense of loss at this moment. I come from a fairly close family, and my Dad was a major figure in my life, even as an adult. He and I talked on an almost daily basis, and yet, somehow, I now feel that I didn't really understand so much until he was gone. It is a very strange thing, the way we come to know a person through the absence they leave, and I have come to appreciate my father in many ways that I wish I had understand before it was too late.
Anyhow, I miss him a lot, but I am glad to have had a father like he was, who did so many things for that make me miss him the way I do.
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