I became acutely aware that I was
about to walk my father down the aisle, instead of having him walk me. It was a
physical pain that I could somehow feel all the way to the tips of my hair, in
the white part of my fingernails, and in the calluses on my feet. To take a
step seemed to say that I was agreeing to living in a world without my dad in
it, that I was signing away my rights to the moments I had dreamed of with him.
I was never prepared for the moment in this church where I would give him away.
Ok. I went out on a limb with this one. I knew I wasn't ready to write it, but I wanted to try. I couldn't think of a more defining moment in my life, or one that even came close. My dad was the impedes for me to take this course- Not only his death, but the book he wrote prior to it. He had an amazing talent for story-telling that left you on the edge of your seat... while peeing your pants with laughter.
For the first time this semester, I wasn't thinking of any other writer while I crafted this piece. I had no choice but for the voice to be mine, and I didn't have the distance from the subject matter to even make an attempt at style. For lack of better words, I just bled this one out. And I learned that I'm not ready to truly work on this yet. I won't be revising it for the final portfolio. I'll put it away for awhile until I can approach it with a clearer head. I want to write it. But I want to write it well. That might take awhile.
