Dad

This anniversary wasn't really on my mind this year. I noticed the date about mid-morning as I went to sign a document. I paused for a bit, pen in mid-air, as the acknowledgement sank in. Then I signed the papers in front of me and moved on. 27 years ago, I woke up on a Friday morning and learned that my father had passed away. I was 8 years old. I remember being super excited that day because a friend was coming over after school. But then I saw my brother and he had this funny look on his face. He told me what happened. I heard my Mom crying downstairs.

Since I was pretty young when he passed, my memories of him are a bit foggy and faint. Yes, I do have some really strong and distinct memories, like watching Saturday morning cartoons together (he couldn't believe how dumb Wylie E. Coyote was) or falling asleep on the couch with my head resting on his stomach, but for the most part, what I do remember is with the help of pictures and stories. I can't remember how old I am in the picture above (maybe 2 or 3?) but that was my Dad's favorite chair and my favorite green sweater. And my bowl cut!!

Every once in a while over the last couple of months, it would occur to me that both Ed and my brother are now the same age that my Dad was when he passed. That's crazy. When I look at both of them, all I can think is how young they are. How young my Dad really was and it makes me appreciate things just a little bit more. I'm sad that my Dad won't have the chance to get to know my sons because I think that he would really get a kick out of them and they would have so much fun together. My Mom says that she sees my Dad in my older son and that makes me happy.