Obituary

It's been a month my dearest father. I keep waiting for it to sink in but it gets lodged somewhere between my brain and where I hold you dearly and fiercely, my heart. You are STILL and forever will be my imago ***** The power of a single word. - I wrote this for him 10 years ago. It still holds true to this very day. ~~~ If I was asked to name someone it would be my father. Although he would snort if he was here beside me reading this. He's asked many a time in the past to 'humanize' him, I didn't understand what he meant till I had kids of my own. Now I get him. A pedestal's an uncomfortable and precarious place to be and I always made sure my kids never put me on one as the child in me had done to my dad. The pressure must of been awful for him and when he 'fell' he was powerless to do anything to try to ease the disappointment. My fault, I put him up there and it wasn't fair to him. My father is turning 80 soon. Time has ravaged his physical being. He's not as tall as he used to be, not as solid. Never have I more keenly felt the human side of my dad as I do his mortality. It scares me, him turning this age. He looks forward to it. I do envy him, this comfort with his age. He's still as sharp as a tac, however, and one of the most intelligent men I'll ever know. But he's getting frail and the little girl in me wants to stop this passage of time, of aging. . how can time be short for him? He is supposed to live forever, isn't he? Of course he is, after all he is my Imago. Shhhh don't tell him I said so, in his mind he gladly burned that pedestal the last time he 'fell' off it. Little does he know though that in my secret place, I rebuilt it. For a man like him, his faults only serve to strengthen my Imago more, I've never looked for perfection in a human but there's also never been another man like my Dad. Imago. Who's yours?