Goodbye

My mom called today to tell me my dad died. The most awful thing about this situation is that we don't know how he died, or where. Hopefully we will know these things soon. We do know the date he died, October 26, 2007.

I haven't seen my dad in years, and the last time I did see him, in 2003, he was less than lucid. So it's a strange set of emotions I'm feeling regarding his death. Though I did not have a relationship in my adult years, we were very close during my childhood. I loved my dad, and I'm sure he loved Daniel and I. I'm grieving more deeply than I would have thought I would.

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However and wherever my dad died, I'm sure he was not honored properly. So I'd like to acknowledge the life he lived right here. Dad, I'm sorry to eulogize you eight months after you've passed away, but it should be known that:

• You had the best sense of humor I've ever encountered. The thing I remember best about you is your laughter. I can still hear it. And you laughed at our stupid, kid jokes just like they were brilliantly funny.
  
  
• You had this idea that I would be the youngest ham radio operator in the country. So we sat for hours in the attic learning morse code. I could barely read, much less spell, but I could piece together words on my own little morse code sending machine. Dit, dot, dot, dit...
  
  
• You played the piano and the guitar beautifully, without ever having a lesson. Sometimes when I'm having trouble sleeping, I think back to those nights when we had just got our piano. You would play late into the night as the rest of the household fell into a deep slumber. I'd try to stay awake to listen, but it never worked. I wish I had a recording of those hours. And I wish you would have taught me what you were doing so I could play just like you on the guitar and the piano.
  
  
• You played the Heart and Soul duet with me at my last piano recital. I was so nervous that I would screw up and embarrass us both. But you just nudged my knee with yours when I started to speed up the tempo. I was never so proud to be your daughter as I was that day.
  
  
• You had a way of saying "I don't see why not..." when you could easily have said "No."
• You would talk on the phone for hours with me. We would play this game where you would ask me what each of the comic strips were about on Sundays, and I would tell you. Every time, you acted like I had the best memory on earth and that you were amazingly impressed.
  
  

Dad, I'm sorry life turned out the way it did for you. And it pains me no end to think you might have died alone. But please know that Daniel and I loved you more than you can imagine. And we still do. Your life was important to us, and it continues through us. Goodbye for now...