Author Adelaide Green

They ask questions about you.

Usually I love it.

I greet it. I want it. I need it.

Your Birthday is days away though, Father’s Day is looming.

They happen at the same time every year.

In some way it’s lucky, one fell swoop, in other way’s it’s harder.

“Did Papa like movies?”

“Did Papa like Mario Kart?”

“Did Papa want to die?”

“Was Papa scared when he was sick?”

Some answers are so easy, he loved movies. All movies. We laughed because generally he would pick bad movies.

When I was little he took my sisters and I to see Training Day. As it started he knew he made a mistake and we left, “Don’t tell mom.” We did tell mom.

He didn’t play video games, he worked so often to provide. But I think he would of. Especially if he got to play with you.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He tried everything. His tumors shrunk, we felt hopeful. But eventually that hope faded and we knew what was ahead of him.

How do you tell a child he was afraid? So many people say death is nothing to fear. He told me “Sis, it’s not the dying I am afraid of. It’s the being forgotten, the not living anymore, the not seeing my grandkids grow. Your lives will go on without me. Without me in it.”

Our lives had gone on, without him, without him in it. But it hurts. It aches.

His spot is left at the table, in the family, in our hearts. A huge gaping hole.

I am unable to fix it, fill it, set it free. He was wrong. Everyday we think of him, celebrate him, share our stories about him. How can you forget one of your first and most pure loves? you can’t.

Some days I wish the questions would never end. Young children have endless questions.

But for now I wish they could end. That I could just close my eyes and open them and he would be here. Celebrating his birthday with us. Oh how I wish the questions could end. If they ended or never came it might mean that he was still here.