Author Adelaide Green

“Is there anything else you want to say to him? Now is your chance.”

These words ring through my ears. Over and over again.

No answer left to give. I didn’t have time then or space to know what I should’ve said.

I didn’t know the infinite space of emptiness that would be left if I didn’t do it.

I shook my head then, “No nothing left to say.” The sounds rattling from his chest scared me.

Scarred me. Startled me. Jostled me. Jostle me still.

I didn’t know then that having no words then would haunt me now, rattle me still.

Lucky, I’ve been told, me I am lucky.

My dad died when I was 29, so many memories to hold onto.

He died a slow death from cancer and I am old enough to remember every single heart breaking moment of it.

When he could no longer walk, when he could no longer wipe himself, he was only 65.

In the end he wore a look of embarrassment. Sad and afraid, sorry we had to see him like that.

How to find luck in all the sorrow? it’s buried, buried deep.

I wish I could thank him, thank him for being present. As a parent myself I see how hard that task can be, to be fully present, but he was, always.

I would tell him the stories he told me about Tarzan and Jane would be something I’d do with my kids, a way to celebrate his creativity.

I’d let him know how missed he would be, his fear was to be forgotten, but there is no forgetting him, not for a day, not for a second.

His name is always on the tip of my tongue “dad” his smile is always at the back of my mind.

Many years ago while driving to a soccer game, just he and I, we saw a hawk. My dad muttered something about how if he could be anything it would be a hawk. Soaring above. Seeing all below.

I went for a walk with my kids, through the mud and muck, clearing my mind. My thoughts were on him. how in a few days it would be three years since I last saw him alive. Before the chains in his chest went silent forever.

We noticed two hawks. One flew away immediately but the other stayed on his perch, calm, even as we approached. I went under the branch and looked up at him and he looked down at me. Curious. Our eyes connected for what felt like hours but was mere seconds.

It was him. I know it was. I felt peace. I feel it still. Even in the sadness. Even when my heart breaks again. In the cracks, through the pain, I know he is there. I know he is with me. I whisper in the depths of my home

“You are missed.”