Aug 14, 2009 23:41
Dad: Hey. Call me when you have a chance. I'm worried about you.
Me: I'm fine...about to hit the hay. I'll call you tomorrow. I've just been doing community service, trying to get that over with. Don't be worried and have a nice night.
Dad: Thanks for replying. I love you man.
Me: I love you too dad.
I've talked to him probably 6 times this year so far. I don't want to turn into that son that only calls on father's day and Christmas but then again, I don't really call anyone these days.
Upon receiving that last text from him, I immediately began crying for some reason I couldn't possibly name. I guess I just miss him and feel like a terrible son.
I put on Pearl Jam's "Yield" the other night just out of curiosity. I haven't heard it since I was 12 or so. The fist track came on and I immediately felt I was sitting in my father's passenger seat. We were on our way to Erwinville to see my Grandfather. He was chain-smoking and though I didn't realize it at the time, he was also nervous and slightly distressed. That album was up loud. I want so badly to call him and tell him that I truly treasure that moment those like it but I'm not so sure he would know how to take it.