The Omnipresence of Absence
June is warm and full of the promise of a hot St. Louis summer. June also contains Father's Day. My dad passed away on Dec. 22, 2006. He was 52. While I have had the opportunity to feel this loss for close to 8 years, there is always that nagging feeling that my father isn't among the living. It is a more intense version of leaving my house without my cell phone or my wallet. Others cannot see what isn’t there, but I feel the itch under my skin. It is the buzz of the clandestine fly in my dark bedroom as I try to sleep. In June, he is everywhere, and he is nowhere. He is gone, and he is holding my hand. He is the air. I spoke to him the night before he passed then found him the next day. His body lukewarm and beyond saving, a gift given to me and taken away abruptly. Bereavement is also more challenging if the relationship is dependent. My dad and I had a fiercely strong relationship. Every week or so since his death, I have a dream where I am speaking to