Ten years ago tonight my dad died of a heart attack.
Recently I've come across letters he wrote me from as far back as the mid-70's. His words demonstrated love, and as I read through his well-crafted messages I'm struck by how lucky I was to have him as my father. We had some wonderful years doing sports and cruising Washington and B.C. in the 60's and 70's.
I have some regrets, however. I could have been more mature, more appreciative sooner than I was. Could have been a more understanding son. But what I wasn't then I work to be today, and dad's voice is still in my head to help me. Funny how smart he's gotten.
They never go if we don't let 'em, and my conversations with my dad these days are words I hope he hears. He taught me more than I knew, and I wish he'd lived longer so I could share an older me with him.
Today I sat in the grass at his grave at Tahoma Memorial Cemetery in Kent. Birds sang. Life slowed. There's his name, my dad's name. There on the gravestone. How could that be? My fingers massaged the letters.
I continued to stare, and to think about what he meant to me.
Tears fell. I was lifted.
Recently I've come across letters he wrote me from as far back as the mid-70's. His words demonstrated love, and as I read through his well-crafted messages I'm struck by how lucky I was to have him as my father. We had some wonderful years doing sports and cruising Washington and B.C. in the 60's and 70's.
I have some regrets, however. I could have been more mature, more appreciative sooner than I was. Could have been a more understanding son. But what I wasn't then I work to be today, and dad's voice is still in my head to help me. Funny how smart he's gotten.
They never go if we don't let 'em, and my conversations with my dad these days are words I hope he hears. He taught me more than I knew, and I wish he'd lived longer so I could share an older me with him.
Today I sat in the grass at his grave at Tahoma Memorial Cemetery in Kent. Birds sang. Life slowed. There's his name, my dad's name. There on the gravestone. How could that be? My fingers massaged the letters.
I continued to stare, and to think about what he meant to me.
Tears fell. I was lifted.