Today mocked me like a bully in the schoolyard. It knew that it would only cause me pain, but it came anyway. I tried stepping around it, but it was everywhere. It was on every commercial and in every corner store’s windows. I had to admit it to myself. It was Father’s Day.
This was the third Father’s Day I’d spent without Dad. The first two had been easy, I would see him while he was on leave. But this time was different. This time he would not come back because he died fighting in a war I don’t understand. I didn’t get a last good bye or one more hug. All I got was a letter and a flag.
Momma and I cried or more like she cried while I was too sad to. We didn’t say much. We didn’t answer the phone. We just sat there and got beaten up by today.
It’s been six months. Six months since he was killed.
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