I still miss my dad.
My stepmother, Edith, sent me one of the cardigan sweaters Dad used to wear. She could hardly have given me a more precious gift. When I need a hug, I put it on, and it’s as though Dad is right there. I take that sweater along in my suitcase whenever I go anywhere. If you ever see me wearing a man’s green cardigan, you’ll know–I need a hug.
Yesterday’s mail brought a note from Edith, and some recent pictures of Dad–beaming in every one–that I will cherish. She enclosed a copy of a poem she found after the memorial services, inside an envelope taped to the inside of ‘his’ cupboard door. He’d clipped it from a magazine or newspaper and left it there for her to find.
This is how it goes:
MISS ME–BUT LET ME GO
When I come to the end of the day
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little, but not too long
And not with your head bowed low,
Remember the love that we once shared…
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take
And each must go alone,
It is all a part of the Maker’s plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds…
Miss me, but let me go.
(Author Unknown)
