5 years

by Peter Marus

Dec. 5th.  It's been 5 years since my father died.  It's been an interesting time, where I have grown a lot, but I still feel like a kid wanting his approval.    I guess it's natural for a one wanting to know he's doing right by his father.  As much as I think I know what I am doing, there are just as many times I feel like a rudderless ship and could use my dad's advice.  Even doing some simple things I wonder if he would do it the way I do things.  

 

It's also been hard to deal with.  When storms come through, it shakes the house and makes the trees hit the house and it sounds like how it sounded when his body hit his bedroom floor.  He died on a Sunday Night/Monday Morning, and since he died, Sunday nights are just full of anxiety about everything in my life.  Those who have spoke to me during these times probably have noticed.  

 

interesting story: I was in the basement doing laundry, and looked around trying to picture his train set he used to set up years ago.  He would spend weeks putting this massive train set up (took up 75% of the basement).  It would be a couple different towns, with is trains going around it, along with an electric bus running on wires.  He boult every working street lamp, and work on a lot of the details of the buildings.  It was an amazing feat when he did it.  It brought so much joy to do and pride to show people.  He put it up for the holidays up to when the family got the house in PA (then he had no time/money to work on it).  I know he missed doing it, and my mom surprised him one year getting a Playmobiel train (the bug one for kids) that ran around the tree.  She wanted him to have some trains up and he surely enjoyed it.  Last year was the first year we put it up since he died, and we plan on doing it again this year.  

 

So I stood in the basement, and stood in amazement at the size of what he did.  It seemed even bigger when I was a kid, but even now it seems like a huge undertaking  to do.  I miss it.

 

I miss him.  I miss all he gave to me, and I miss what he could have given me.  One thing I tell people that I try to keep on my mind is this: one is made up of their mother and father.  As long as you live, they live-even if they have passed away.  

 

I miss my dad.