Goodbye, Dad
This is a story I wrote about my hypothetical son visiting my hypothetical grave after my hypothetical death. Hypothetically. It here in its entiretly and it's very short.
Goodbye, Dad
I remember when I was little, my father would take me to church. He would sit at the back and read a book while I sat in the front listened to the sermon. The first time I asked him what 'God' is, he didn't answer. Instead, he took me to a priest and I started going to church. To learn about God. I tried to read from the bible, too, but my little mind could get past the first few pages. After a few weeks, I asked my father again:
"Why don't you believe in God?"
He answered with no hesitation this time, as if he were waiting to say this to me. "God is an invention of man to make them feel safe. God is an excuse to hurt and segregate people. God is a means of guilting people or scaring people into doing bad things or feeling ashamed. God is the purest form of evil I know of."
I was sort of shocked at his reply but my father was that kind of guy."So, why do you take me to church?"
"Because I want you to form your own opinion. I want you to figure it out for yourself. Maybe, someday, you'll be able to convince me, that there is a God... Also... The feeling of a higher being watching over you, protecting you, is a nice feeling to have. I don't want to keep you from that."
"But you said--"
"I could be wrong. I'm not infalible. I just call it like I see it."
I remember when he was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. "I don't even drink...It figures something like this would happen to me... eh, I probably deserve it." He said on the drive home from the hospital. I didn't know how to reply to that. I'm just glad he kept that attitude until he left us.
At his funeral, we had a small party, blasting his favorite music. It's weird watching people headbang to KoRn with eyes filled with tears. His friends became like uncles and aunts to me, after that.
My wife's poke breaks me out of my daze as we pull up to the cemetery gates. "We're here." She says to me, in a soft whisper, as if afraid to disturb those who rest here. As we walk through, my eyes only focus on my father's grave. When we get close, Sara stops. I kneel in front of him.
"Hey, dad, happy birthday... I hope, uh, I hope you're doing well, where ever you are. I hope you can see me... Mom's doing well... Laura just had her first baby. It's a boy. You're a grandfather, now... Um, Emily graduates this year, with honors... I'm doing well, too. Sara and I are married now and I just got my bachelor's in game design so me and a few friends are starting a company... I guess that's everything... I'll see you soon, dad... I miss you... we all do..." As I approached Sara's waiting embrace, a swift wind chilled the tears on my cheeks. As we got to the car, I pushed all the other memories of my father aside.
Thank you. Feedback is welcomed.
Goodbye, Dad
I remember when I was little, my father would take me to church. He would sit at the back and read a book while I sat in the front listened to the sermon. The first time I asked him what 'God' is, he didn't answer. Instead, he took me to a priest and I started going to church. To learn about God. I tried to read from the bible, too, but my little mind could get past the first few pages. After a few weeks, I asked my father again:
"Why don't you believe in God?"
He answered with no hesitation this time, as if he were waiting to say this to me. "God is an invention of man to make them feel safe. God is an excuse to hurt and segregate people. God is a means of guilting people or scaring people into doing bad things or feeling ashamed. God is the purest form of evil I know of."
I was sort of shocked at his reply but my father was that kind of guy."So, why do you take me to church?"
"Because I want you to form your own opinion. I want you to figure it out for yourself. Maybe, someday, you'll be able to convince me, that there is a God... Also... The feeling of a higher being watching over you, protecting you, is a nice feeling to have. I don't want to keep you from that."
"But you said--"
"I could be wrong. I'm not infalible. I just call it like I see it."
I remember when he was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. "I don't even drink...It figures something like this would happen to me... eh, I probably deserve it." He said on the drive home from the hospital. I didn't know how to reply to that. I'm just glad he kept that attitude until he left us.
At his funeral, we had a small party, blasting his favorite music. It's weird watching people headbang to KoRn with eyes filled with tears. His friends became like uncles and aunts to me, after that.
My wife's poke breaks me out of my daze as we pull up to the cemetery gates. "We're here." She says to me, in a soft whisper, as if afraid to disturb those who rest here. As we walk through, my eyes only focus on my father's grave. When we get close, Sara stops. I kneel in front of him.
"Hey, dad, happy birthday... I hope, uh, I hope you're doing well, where ever you are. I hope you can see me... Mom's doing well... Laura just had her first baby. It's a boy. You're a grandfather, now... Um, Emily graduates this year, with honors... I'm doing well, too. Sara and I are married now and I just got my bachelor's in game design so me and a few friends are starting a company... I guess that's everything... I'll see you soon, dad... I miss you... we all do..." As I approached Sara's waiting embrace, a swift wind chilled the tears on my cheeks. As we got to the car, I pushed all the other memories of my father aside.
Thank you. Feedback is welcomed.