(no subject)
America has Sept.11th as a day of mourning, but for me its the 12th. My father's birthday.
It hits me like a brick wall every year, knowing I won't be taking him out to Tony Roma's for a birthday dinner, that I didn't have to buy him a sweater at Macy's this year to replace the one he got ink stains on from last year. That I won't hear his laugh, see him smile, have a conversation filled with wit, humor, and intelligence with him. I will never get to hear his snarky commentary on politics again, sigh over his watching Mcneil/Leherer endlessly, or hug him when things have gotten bad.
He was my best friend, the best dad, the best teacher, the one person who was indispensable to my life. I miss him so much that I can't possibly even express it.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.
It hits me like a brick wall every year, knowing I won't be taking him out to Tony Roma's for a birthday dinner, that I didn't have to buy him a sweater at Macy's this year to replace the one he got ink stains on from last year. That I won't hear his laugh, see him smile, have a conversation filled with wit, humor, and intelligence with him. I will never get to hear his snarky commentary on politics again, sigh over his watching Mcneil/Leherer endlessly, or hug him when things have gotten bad.
He was my best friend, the best dad, the best teacher, the one person who was indispensable to my life. I miss him so much that I can't possibly even express it.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.