To my Hercules
My Dad died 6 months and 2 weeks ago. I wonder if I will always keep an accurate count in my head or if I will some day forget. He died of stomach cancer in November. It was a very short battle, he was diagnosed on September 30th and died November 18th. I remember the night he died and it was the most surreal thing I have ever experienced. I couldn't believe I was really there, I couldn't believe all the things I was feeling. I felt like a bucket of cold water had just been poured on me but after the intial shock, almost immediate numbness set in. I refused to believe my father died, there are days I still believe it to be true. I can talk about it, not for very long but every time I do, it's like... it's just a story, a story I made up that didn't really happen.
I call my dad Hercules because there was no one stronger in this world than him. He would work and work outside from sun up to sun down and he would also go to his office and work long hours. He also traveled for work. He sacrificed a lot to give me a home and food to eat. My parents never had trouble making ends meet but they worked hard. My mother is still alive but I don't put her on this pedestal like I do with my dad and I think she resents me for it. I love my mother but I looked at my dad and would see him as... bullet proof, nothing and no one could hurt him. He held up the world around me and when he died, it felt like I was hanging off the edge of a cliff with nothing to hold on to and no hope of ever being rescued... my hercules was gone, and nothing and no one can ever make it right, can ever make it okay. I love my dad more than I have ever loved any man. A piece of my heart will always belong to him and no one else. He wasn't perfect, but then again love is blind. I wonder sometimes if I will ever love a man as much as I loved him.
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