I sleep just to dream of your voice to see your face and feel your heart. I imagine the day that I have my wedding when you are not there to walk me down the aisle and I know what it is I will do when the D.J. says.

"And now for the father daughter dance."

And I alone will walk on to the dance floor with my heart up to the ceiling and my face caressing his.

"No more Tears in Heaven..." the song will grace onto the room. The tears of every human in the hall will begin to fall. My eyes will swell with tears but I will stand dancing with myself...and my father. My face lit with a slight smile as I imagine the feeling of my father holding me close to him telling me that I am the little girl that he remebers no matter who I am with.

Creation of a perfect moment made by imperfect timing.

It steals your soul to lose a parent. For days your body shrivels. The same phrase exits your mouth everytime someone says. "How are you doing?, Let me know if there is anything that I can do for you." Dammit, Sure there is, "you can bring him back" Bring my father back! This is not happening! This is not happening! This is not happening" But I don't instead, "Thank you if I need something I will let you know."

For years I will wonder why he was stolen from my brother and I at the age of 55. That is too young for anyone to die. It is too young for me not to have a father. It is too soon. I am only 28.

Learn more about this author, Jennifer Harlan.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Essays: Death of a parent?
We want to hear your view. Write now!