Pain In Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here

One day my father was here and; then, the next day he left, and it hurts. That’s the pitfall of sudden loss. You lack time to prepare for the pain. Suddenly, my mind takes me back to August 22nd, 1994. The day seemed promising here in St, Louis, Missouri. As I drove through the suburbs of St. Louis, not a cloud crossed the horizon, not a drop of rain or distant thunder made itself known. All of a sudden my cell phone rings! I remember the call so vividly, and it haunts me. The call ended. Your heart, it must have hurt to such an extent that it stopped. The sky was full of sunshine one minute, while flooding the next. With no preparation, the world leaves you in shock and panic. So, I parked the car and I sat in the unknown, and I shook as my hands turned the radio on. How ironic would it be that “Wish you Were Here” by Pink Floyd starts playing? Then, the song comes to an end and somehow you muddle through the years wondering if the pain will ever resolve.

Numbness becomes addicting, but no matter how much greater numbness feels

A day with my two daughters had been worth all the time in the world. I had nothing to give them other than my love and time. I buried my problems in a relationship with a woman who encouraged my habits. The house reeked of cigarette smoke, a child shouldn’t be familiar with the smell, but I made them accustomed to it. When you dropped them off you told me no smoking near the girls, and I failed to listen, but they kept that to themselves. I would try to ease their minds, I would look into their fleeting eyes and tell them I quit drinking. Our oldest, she saw through the lies, she knew the truth. The girls talked such fondness of their new father. I remember we were riding in the car, and they were boasting about how delicious of potato soup he made. I told them I would cook it for them since they loved it so much, but the days were flying by, and the potato soup remained a