I just took my Dad’s blu-ray player out of the bins I’d brought back after he died. I put the first Batman in it; I haven’t seen it yet, and a friend was kind enough to loan it to me.

A few years ago, I’d helped my Dad pick this player out, and I hooked it up to his TV. I went through his VCR tapes with him and made a wish list of DVD movies for him. My brother bought some of them for him. I loved calling him and hearing the details of which ones he’d watched.

I wish I could watch Batman right now. More than anything, though, I wish I could watch it right now with my Dad. It’s the kind of movie he would have loved. It’s the kind of movie I would have loved to watch with him.

I wonder how long it will be before my eyes stop welling up with tears from any reminder of him.

I’m looking forward to when I can get past that choking tightness in my throat from swallowing the pain of missing him so dearly, too.

For now, I’ve no choice but to let the tears come, imagining his voice as if he and I were watching this movie. If I let it out now, maybe I can enjoy Batman later, with a little less pain.

~ cj 2012.07.20

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3 Responses to Blu

  1. Steve says:

    {{ Hugs }} To ya CJ. The lumps & tears will subside but it’s gonna be a while longer. When your ready I’d like to see a poem about a happy time with your dad or just about him. He sure raised an interesting girl.

    • cjromb says:

      Ah, but aren’t most of these tinged with happiness? That’s what makes the sad hurt. 🙂

    • cjromb says:

      I’m looking forward to when I can see clearly to the happiness without the salty pain getting in the way. I’m sure it will come once this all washes away.

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