Stupid damn emotions
So on Sunday, Liz and I were driving back from a friend's son's christening in Suffield, CT, when "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics came on the radio. "The Living Years" is dull by-the-numbers pop music without much of a hook and with gooey saccharine lyrics that a Hallmark writer would hesitate to put in a greeting card. It's a terrible song, and I know it's a terrible song.
The gooey, saccharine lyrics happen to be about a man reflecting on his father's death and regretting all the things he didn't share with his father when the old man was alive-in the living years. Gag, right? But this losing a parent thing doesn't ever really go away, so I sat in the car, singing along and hoping Liz wound't notice the tears running down my face. I miss you, Dad.
The gooey, saccharine lyrics happen to be about a man reflecting on his father's death and regretting all the things he didn't share with his father when the old man was alive-in the living years. Gag, right? But this losing a parent thing doesn't ever really go away, so I sat in the car, singing along and hoping Liz wound't notice the tears running down my face. I miss you, Dad.