Thursday, February 18, 2010


I used to pray, that my father live to see my wedding. I calculated the extra years he'd need, to make it, to be there. For getting married is entering a new stage, a new phase; I wanted him to see me at it, see me reach it, see me grown up. I wanted him to be pleased, and proud.

But some things are not to be. He hasn't been around for a while, my dad. And even if he had been, so far he wouldn't have gotten to see that day.I'm still in the same stage I was then; same family status, same title before my name. Nothing's changed.

Yet it has. I may not be a married woman, but I have grown up, nonetheless.

I come home from work and run for my slippers and sweatshirt, rush to shed the constraining clothes of the day. He used to do the same. I thought it was funny, amusing, then.

I attend the Shiurs that he used to love, that I used to find boring. I enjoy them now.

I read his favorite books and columns. I appreciate his taste. I wish we could discuss them together.

I think of phrases he said, actions he followed. I see the wisdom, now. I understand, now.

There's so much we could have talked about, so much we could have shared. I would have understood him better, for I'm older now. Our whole relationship could have matured, developed. It would have made him happy, would have made him proud.

It's not only my wedding that he's going to miss. It's my adult life, which has already begun.

God let me have him all through my school years, he let me have a father growing up. I'm grateful.

"At least I'm not growing up an orphan" I said, at seventeen. "I'm an adult now. I can manage."

It is true, in a way. But as time passes, as life deepens and broadens, I'm grasping what I'm missing; a real relationship with him, an adult relationship.

Loss is supposed to get easier, when time goes by. And it does. Whole days go by where I don't even think of him, don't even look at his picture on my shelf.

Yet a part of me gets sadder. It's been longer without him, he's missing out on more of our lives. There is more and more that he's never going to see. The moments pile up, that I can't share with him.

I suppose that is what it means to lose somebody, in the simplest sense. He's gone, and in all the years that follow, through all the moments and events, he's not there. He's missing.

I almost didn't post this. I decided to in the end, because it's for all of you out there who are also missing someone.


  1. Hugs! I lost my son a year and a half ago and though it's very different than losing a father, the emotions are similar. I'm sure your father is watching you from above and shepping much nachas from you.

  2. Thank you for posting this - once I came across this quote by Zvi Shatz: "We do not always know how to give life to that which is within our souls." It is the gift of writers - the gift writers have to offer - to do so for us.

  3. B'H I havent experienced losing a parent, and so I cannot perceive the depth of your feeling. Still, thank you for sharing.

  4. Thanks for posting it. It's impossible for someone like myself who, bli ayin hara, hasn't suffered such a loss to fully comprehend what it's like. Your writing, as good as it is, gives us a small glimpse of what it's like and it's good for us to have.

  5. People who aren't missing someone should read your words and appreciate the people important in their lives.

    I'm glad you decided to post this.

    I have lost people in my life, but there's still nothing I can say to comfort you.

  6. Incredibly powerful. I'm glad that you shared it. Though I have lost some extended-relatives, the feeling is still incomparable to your loss. We all need a reality check every now and then to jolt us from the picture-perfect existence that we think we live in - taking the edge off of the haze of kalus rosh that so many people live in, day-in, day-out.

    Thank you again for sharing, and may you soon find the proper man who will help fill (though not entirely) the hole in your heart.

  7. As someone who has lost both parents to the big C, I found this very powerful and beautiful too. It brought a tear to my eye. Thank you for posting it and you were right to do so.

  8. I concur with the group.
    This piece was beautifully written, poignant and IMPORTANT.
    There is a tremendous void in the life of somebody who has lost a parent. Our parents do share in our simchas and accomplishments though. They just share from "another room" and make their L'chayims and shep nachas with all the other family members who have passed on as well.

  9. I understand you very well but how far have you just made me understand it!!
    I was 16, I didn't feel it back then but over the past year I started thinking about it more and realize what happened...

  10. I only just lost my mother a couple montha ago. I'm 22, and though bh she was there all throughout my growing years, I am saddened to know she won't be here for when I get married or the other big milestones that come with adulthood...

    It's sad, but reading your words, it's not so bad.
    It just helps hearing other people's stories, I guess...

  11. Beautifully said. Your words really reflect how I feel about losing my father also.

  12. this really touched me. i lost my mom (a"h) when i was 14, and even though i'm only 18 now, i already feel that she missed out on so much of my development and growing up..

  13. i cried. thank you

    But not only because of the relationship your missing, but i also appreciate what i have even more

  14. Thank you for posting this.