Remembered.
Last night I dreamed of my late father--for once, not a nightmare.
I was looking through a tall clothbound book that, I was told, was a collection of his memories. I noted that there was a list of three women he loved better than my mother, although I cannot now recall who they were.
He peeked at me, smiling, finally catching my downcast eyes. And I held his hand and told him that I missed him. Because, ridiculously, despite everything, I do. I miss him, his smile, the flash of his teeth in his dark face.
But I also miss the idea of a father. I miss never being walked down the aisle at my weddings by my father. But I don't know if he would even have wanted to do things like that. There's so much about him that now I'll never know.
And I just now remembered that today is his birthday. He would have been 67. But he never even made it to 60.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. You can comment here, or there using OpenID, or hell, both places if you want. It's all good.
I was looking through a tall clothbound book that, I was told, was a collection of his memories. I noted that there was a list of three women he loved better than my mother, although I cannot now recall who they were.
He peeked at me, smiling, finally catching my downcast eyes. And I held his hand and told him that I missed him. Because, ridiculously, despite everything, I do. I miss him, his smile, the flash of his teeth in his dark face.
But I also miss the idea of a father. I miss never being walked down the aisle at my weddings by my father. But I don't know if he would even have wanted to do things like that. There's so much about him that now I'll never know.
And I just now remembered that today is his birthday. He would have been 67. But he never even made it to 60.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. You can comment here, or there using OpenID, or hell, both places if you want. It's all good.