I just finished up a post about the album "Haunted" by Poe on Last.fm. The album crushes my heart every time I hear it because of the end. It is a gentle lullaby sang by Poe to her deceased father with recordings from her father talking to his kids when they were little.
Being a father I'm so deeply and personally attached my children (normal) but to the point that sometimes at night I think about the million things I could have done with my kids and the fact that I didn't get to. I think about the fact that I have to travel to work tomorrow and I could die and never see them again. I think about the fact that I could be at work and something could happen to them, and I yelled at them today. I spanked Owen. I flit through the untold horrors that could befall us all and cry. I weep like a child out of regret and fear and anger and disappointment. I weep in the middle of the night out of terror. For no reason at all.
I lost my father when I was 16 and I know how damned hard it is, and I can't bear to think about my own children having to go through that when I pass away. It is perverse that the one thing I wish I could help them with the most, the one thing I wish I could shield them from and keep them away from is the very thing that takes me from them.
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