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Letters: For My Dad
One year ago today my father passed away. It was sudden. He was 71. There was still a lot of life left in my dad when he died. Today is difficult, and will be even more so for my mother.
I will cry, I am crying now. Yet, what I want to do in this post, is to remember my dad as he lived.
Remember the times that he was there for me. The times that he stood for me, when I was lost. Lost inside of myself, and in the greater world.
The first memories I have of my dad are of him in dress clothes, heading off to work. Work that he liked, and didn’t, yet went anyway, every day, because it was expected and needed. Expected of himself, by himself.
I remember the first time we played catch, which may sound awfully cliche, yet it was an important moment in my life. Knowing that my dad would make time to spend with me, regardless of other pressing priorities, was an important learning for me as a child.
