My Dad

Last week would have been my dad's 69th birthday.

He passed nine and a half years ago, and I miss him still.

I have days when I wish I could talk to him.  For differing reasons, some days to ask what I was like as a child and sometimes just to find out the name of an actor or a movie. 

I have moments when I wish I could share a movie or some music with him.

I miss his laugh.

I regret the way things were at the end.

I carried so much guilt, even though he and I were both wrong. 

I loved the way my dad interacted with children.  He was funny, and really listened when most adults didn't.

I love him for sharing his love of football, golf, jazz, books and learning.  My dad had a respect for my inquisitive spirit.  He taught me that it was ok to ask questions and look for answers--no matter what the subject.

My Daddy wasn't my hero, not exactly.  I had no misconceptions about who he was.  I knew he cheated on my mom, hadn't graduated school, got into trouble as a kid, started smoking in elementary school...I could go on but it doesn't matter.  He was my Daddy.  I loved him even though I did not like some things.  I loved him and felt that he loved and understood me...until I came out.

 

Still, I miss him.

 

I miss him still.