One Day I"ll

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One day I'll wake up to news that my father is dead. Perhaps it will be via a facebook message, or maybe someone will call or text me. I'll get a voicemail that says my father has passed away. Perhaps it won't be until several days later. Someone will remember he had a daughter, or if they never knew, they'll somehow find out that he has a daughter and that just maybe, she'll want to know her father's dead. I will receive the news and say thank you. I"ll ask if the funeral arrangements have been made or if that's something I will need to do. I"ll hope that it's the former. I may not even visit his grave if it's already been taken care of. If it hasn't been, I may never visit it at all. My life will go on as it had been for years and years previously. I may shed a tear but it won't be in grieving for a man I never knew. It will be for compassion that a man that helped bring me into existence is dead. I might hug a woman I had never met before, and she'll awkwardly hug me back as she whispers her sorrow that he's gone. She'll try to comfort me and I might act as if I need that comfort. There may be no woman at all. I may stand awkwardly next to cousins and an aunt while we act the part of happy families, atleast in front of prying eyes. We will go our separate ways once he's lowered to the ground. I will hope for no falsities like "we will get together." I don't need compassion and sorrow from others for such a life as I lead. It may not be a convenient life, but it is mine. I have long since come to terms with unanswered questions and platitudes through text. I have long since learned whom I can rely on and whom I share but a distant memory of supposed happiness.