Bill Zuckert
15 December 1915-23 January 1997
23 January
Yes, it's that time again, the third anniversary of the day that my father died.
A while back, (I can't find the exact link), Brittly asked, apropos her father dying some months ago, "Will it always be this way? When will I stop missing my father so much?"
All I can say is, yes. It will always be this way. It gets less, of course, I can easily think or talk about my father without being sad, but I also do still cry a little once a week, once every couple of weeks, and I accept that as part of my life, part of who I am. I don't get depressed about it, after my little cry, I go on with my day, but it's been three years, and I can only assume that it won't ever stop.
I am a person with a hole in my life, and that hole can never be filled or close or disappear. I accept the hole, I don't dwell on the hole, I don't waste alot of energy wishing that the hole wasn't there, and certainly the edges of the hole are no longer raw, but sometimes I mourn the fact that I don't ever get to be the girl without the hole in her life--that I can't see or talk to my father just one more time.
My mother's mother died before I was born, in 1961 I think, and she still actively misses her every day. It's not a matter of not moving on with your life, it's not a matter of feeling the way that you did on the day that he or she died, it's the fact that the person once was here and now is gone, and time doesn't make them any less gone.
I miss you, Daddy, I'll see you in heaven.
The first Christmas picture, 1965,
and the last Christmas picture, 1996.
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Last Updated Sun 23 January 15:00:09 2000