the dark sacred nights

I lost a friend in high school, not a best friend, but a friend who I saw nearly everyday; Paul and I had become friends through our activities in the school's theater department. It's funny how, after Paul died, I remember thinking of him every single day for a really long time and wondering, "will there ever be a day where I don't think of him?" And that day came, and perhaps I even wondered at myself the next day for not thinking of him the day before. And then many more days passed, and now my thoughts of Paul are fewer and much farther between: sometimes when I go home and pass not too far from where he died; sometimes thinking of him when I attend the church I grew up in, thinking of that cold winter day and a church packed for a funeral. And tonight I think of Paul after watching Glee--a show I am sure he would have loved.

Sitting and thinking of Paul tonight, I began to wonder if I will ever get to that day when I don't think of my Dad everyday any more. This October marked 3 years since my Dad died; 3 years since my life changed drastically in some ways. And I think of my Dad everyday still; grasp at things he used to say to us; cling to memories, especially the last conversations we had; fret over so many regrets; long to hear his infectious laugh, hear his encouragement, feel his love. I miss my Dad so much sometimes I don't think I can stand it. I never believed that the heart can actually ache--physically ache until you really believe it can split open and you'll be swallowed up in this horrible sadness. But that sensation does exist, and yet it also subsides. And we move on.


So, Dad, I hope you're listening wherever you are. I'm listening to our song and wishing you were here to dance with me.