Missing PAPA

This article from the net made me cry. It's a great piece, very much worth the read for anyone who has lost a parent. And Im one of them who miss a DAD but is longing in silence. Hope you will enjoy this story as much as i did..

Some wounds take years to heal
(written by Bobbie Seidel published in the Asbury Park Press 02/5/05)

I was getting into my car outside a bookstore last week when I saw them: a woman in her late 40s or early 50s and an elderly man walking very slowly toward their car.
He leaned into her, his hand gripping her arm for support as his bent body shuffled forward, small step by small step.
My heart kind of raced, and I thought: I'd give anything to have Dad here so I could walk beside him that way again.
I realized I had spoken out loud and tears were running down my face.
These past two months have been particularly filled with longing — there's no other word for it — for my father's presence, perhaps because December marked two years since he died. Such dates are so hard.
I've rarely spoken about that fierce longing for the sight and sound of him, which arises at unexpected moments, as impossible to ignore as a howling dog.
The few times I have spoken about my grief, it's mostly been with my friend Andrea, who's been experiencing her own grief after losing her mother, sister and brother-in-law, all in a fairly short time. It's as though we speak a language all our own, one that tries but fails to define a sadness unlike any other.
Psychologists say it takes about five years to get through the stages of mourning — until we reach acceptance — whether it's over the death of a loved one or the end of a long marriage.
And time, the saying goes, heals all wounds.
In many ways, all of that is true.
I no longer get the crazy feeling that it's all a dream, that when I wake up in the morning, Dad will be alive. And there are days when I'm so busy I don't think of him until that moment just before sleep, when silence, exhaustion and darkness can set the mind roaming.
But one recent day was very bad.
I'm damn independent, capable of researching any topic, then making my own, sometimes foolhardy, decisions. But there I was, so frustrated because I couldn't talk to Dad about the car repairs or how to get through to my son on something important.
Logically, I knew this was because old habits are hard to break; I spent a lifetime relying on Dad's common-sense wisdom. I knew, too, this was part of moving through those "stages."
But I wanted to hear his voice so badly that I thought perhaps there was something wrong with me, so I phoned my daughter and asked: Do you think about Grandpa? Do you miss him?She was both startled and serious as she answered: Of course! A lot.
Odd, I thought. She and I are so close, yet we don't speak about Dad. We've each been mourning him alone, keeping it inside.
Silence isn't golden when it comes to grief; it's deadly. Grief is a virus that sickens the spirit; keeping quiet is a false cure.
The antidote is accepting that grief is part of life and loving, and one day, that fierce, painful longing will be faint and tolerable.
Even then, the sight of someone who reminds us of our loved one will set our heart racing. But that's OK, too, because such memory is the way we honor those we love.