Monday, June 2, 2008

Dearest God,

Today is my father's birthday. Daddy was a twin. My uncle will celebrate his birthday today. I will call him. I know what he'll say. "Hi Andy. How are you Sweetheart?" I know because that's what Daddy would have said, well, unless he had been more well. Then he would have said, "Andeet Skeet, happy birthday."

I looked up to Daddy. He was 6'4" tall. I loved walking in his size 13 shoes. I loved sitting on his foot when I was real small as he walked through the house. What a ride! I loved dancing with Daddy who could only do the box step. I loved playing spelling games with him. I loved hearing about his travels.

I remember the only time Dad ever disciplined me. As a child I said something I should not have said. I don't even remember what it was. But I do know he slapped my mouth. We both cried.

One of my most precious memories of my father was the time he visited me shortly after my diagnosis with cancer. As he sat in the rocking chair in the living room, in the first stage of Alzheimer's Disease, he told me that what I did during my cancer experience would be the legacy I would leave behind. I think he thought I was going to die.

My father was not perfect. He was flawed like me and the rest of us. But Daddy was an example of someone who saw beyond the confines of his environment to dream dreams. He grew up on an 80 acre farm in a tiny town but he accumulated maps so he could travel the world. His travels kept him away from his family for long periods of time but he was happy.

Today I miss him.

I miss my daddy,
Lord.
I miss his smile.
I miss talking
about tomatoes
because it's
planting time.
I miss
his welcome
when I came
to visit.
Dad had eyes
that smiled
when we kids
came back home.
I miss
his presence.
I miss
my daddy.

Love, Andrea