He died three days before my high school graduation.
I know more about him now than I ever did while he was alive, good and bad.
My dad...I can clearly recall four visits with him.
I cherish those frozen moments.
five years old, a day with my dad. I remember feeling all glowing inside when he introduced me to his co-workers...there was pride in his voice when he said "this is my daughter."
I remember my father cooking spaghetti dinner at my grandparents house one night when I was 10...maybe 12. I was visiting from California and Dad said he wanted to cook me dinner.
I remember having a long talk with him in his hospital room just after my 18th birthday. We talked about Metaphysics, and Love. Fate, Destiny, finding your place in the world, pursuing your dreams.
and I remember a few weeks before he died...his thin frame even thinner...his cheekbones drawn tight. his right eye gone blind - a glassy grey next to the brilliant blue of his left. I said, "I love you, Dad." he said, "I love you too, punkin'."
but I am happy to have even that little bit.