By LINDA BINZI
A daughter is left to grieve the absence of her hero. It is 389 days after her father died. She blames the world, she blames the doctors, she blames God, but most of all, she blames the virus.
Her father’s death is still fresh in her head, his love still prominent in her heart, and she experiences the world with a little more bitterness. He was there one day, the next gone. No goodbyes.
She remembers that day, her mother fell to the ground in tears, her brother flipped the table in anger, and her baby sister tucked away at the corner of the couch and watched with fear and confusion as tears ran down her cheeks. But this daughter did not do anything; she did not feel anything.
Instead, with no comfort herself, she became a comforter for her family. Putting on a brave face for others, a mask. Born and raised in a Christian home, she is less than understanding of God’s plan for her father and is annoyed by the encouraging words of others. “Everything happens for a reason,” they tell her, leaving her even more upset and empty.
Now, 389 days later, she wishes to face her emotions to move on, and she tries. But sometimes, she sits and remembers. His warm smile, his warm hug. The laughs they shared, the dreams they shared. He will not be there when she graduates. He will not be there to walk her down the aisle; he will not be there to meet his grandchildren; he will not be there.
On a warm spring day, she walks to a local park. She lies on the grass and thinks to herself. Will she ever find closure, will she ever move on, or will that emptiness remain in her heart forever? Hollow.
