If my dad were still alive, today would be his 57th birthday. I cruised over to his Facebook page, and seven people have already left birthday messages for him. I’m moved to tears.
I don’t really know what I want to write, except that I feel the need to write something…
Mostly I just miss him. I wish that he had taken better care of himself both before his cancer diagnosis and after, so that he might still be around. He died a few months before his 54th birthday, so this is the third one without him…
As it stands, I’m grateful for the time I did have with him.
I’m thankful that he taught me how to throw and hit a softball, and how to throw a football. I’m thankful he passed on his passion for music to me.
I’m thankful he taught me how to change the oil in a car, and that he trusted me to use a weed whacker before I should have really been using one (I cut the hell out of my leg one time. Yowch!). I’m grateful for his attempt, though failed, to teach me how to drive a stick-shift. (I can drive one now.) I’m grateful for his interesting sense of humor. There were times you wouldn’t realize he was telling a joke until he told the punch line… I do not have that skill.
There’s more, but that’ll do for now. I miss you, Dad, and I love you.
